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GEORGh WASHINGTON 

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS 



THOMAS JEFFERSON 
ANDREW JACKSON 



CAPITAL STORIES 

ABOUT 

FAMOUS AMERICANS 

A BUDGET OF TALES OF 

Love, Heroism and Adventure 
On Land and Sea 

EDITED BY 

REV. LOUIS ALBERT BANKS, D.D. 

Author of "The Hall of Fame," "Immortal Songs 
of Camp and Field," etc., etc. 



NEW YORK 
THE CHRISTIAN HERALD 

LOUIS KLOPSCH, Proprietor 
91 to 115 Bible House 



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Q"^-' 



NOV !1 8-»'' 

1 /30S93 I 



Copyright, 190s by Louik Klopsch 
The Christian Herald Press 



CONTENTS 



ADAMS. JOHN QUINCY 

The Farewell to Lafayette. . 13 
An Illustration of Adams' 

Broadmindedness 15 

Adams as a Conversation- 
alist 16 

Adams' Bread-Crust 20 

The Wonderful Vitality of 

the "Old Man Eloquent".. 21 
Dying at His Post 23 

ADDAMS, JANE 

"The Yellow Kid" 24 

ALGER. RUSSELL A. ' 

The Top Price ior a Cow. . 25 
Sharing Credit With His 
Wife 26 

ARMOUR. PHILIP D. 

The Clerk Who Held His 
Own 27 

AUDUBON, JOHN JAMES 
Life in an Osage Indian 

Camp 27 

A Queer Fish 29 

A Romantic Honeymoon ... 29 
Audubon's Favorite Bird. ... 31 
The Romance of a Runaway 

Slave 32 

Audubon and The Eagle ... 35 
The Turtler's Story 37 



BACHELLER IRVING 

A Lame Excuse 42 

BANGS. JOHN KENDRICK 

His Source of Supply 43 

BARNUM. PHINEAS T. 

Rigid Economy 43 

A Successful Advertiser 44 

How He Got the Best of 

Clark 46 

The Famous Doctor Valen- 
tine 48 

Tom Thumb at Court 51 

The General's Extra Train. . 54 
The Welcome to Jenny Lind 55 
A Legendary Bargain 57 

BEECHER. HENRY WARD 

How He Captured Richmond 59 
The Capture of Manchester. 62 

BERGH. HENRY 

As Don Quixote 66 

How He Obtained the Money 
to Start the Society for the 
Prevention of Cruelty to 

Animals 71 

When the Joke was on 

Bergh 72 

Taking the Cow's Part 74 

No Personal Love for Ani- 
mals 76 



Contents 



BEVERIDGE. ALBERT J. 

Under Suspicion 17 

BICKERDYKE, MARY A. 

Mother Bickerdyke's Cure 
for Thieves 79 

Searching the Battlefield at 
Midnight 80 

"Authority from the Lord 
God Almighty" 80 

Mother Bickerdyke's Night- 
gowns 81 

Mother Bickerdyke at a 
Wedding 83 

The Soldier's Bucket of Eggs 87 

How She Pacified the Doc- 
tor 88 

Outranking Sherman 89 

Mother Bickerdyke's Sermon 
to the Landlord 90 

Getting the Best of Sherman 91 

The Old Soldier's Friends. 92 

BLACKBURN. JOSEPH C. S. 

Lockjaw His Only Danger. 93 

BLAINE, JAMES G. 

Helping Out Memory 94 

BOOTH, EDWIN 

A Prince of "Dead-Heads". 95 

BRYAN. WILLIAM J. 

The Greatest Word 96 

BURR. AARON 

The Magnetism of Aaron 
Burr 97 

BURROUGHS, JOHN 

The Beginnings of a Natu- 
ralist 98 

BUTLER. BENJAMIN F. 

"The Late Unpleasantness". 100 



CANNON, JOSEPH G. 

How "Uncle Jo" Lost the 
Senatorship loi 

A Deal in Overcoats 102 

How "Uncle Jo" Broke with 
the Quakers 104 

Used to Criticism 105 

CARNEGIE. ANDREW 

The Turtle Who Won the 

Race 105 

Mr. Carnegie Was Busy with 

Africa 106 

Carnegie at the Foot of the 

Ladder 107 

An Honest Answer 109 

CHILDS. GEORGE W. 

How He Bought the "Public 
Ledger" 109 

CHOATE. JOSEPH W. 

"These Gentlemen Are Vam- 
pires" no 

A Hint to the Judge in 

His Second Choice in 

"A Little Lower than the 
Angels" 112 

CHOATE. RUFUS 

Turning Rebuke to Laughter. 1 12 

A Midnight Journey 113 

The Turkey Case 113 

"A Little Paternal Stretch- 
ing" IIS 

Charmed by the Music of 

His Voice 115 

Lawyer's Vacation 116 

Rufus Choate's Boldness as 

a Lawyer 116 

Childlike in Money Matters. 117 
Establishing a Precedent. . . .117 
An Effective Apology 1 18 



Contents 



Too High a Compliment. . . .118 

Delicious Irony 119 

A Droll Argument 120 

CHURCHILL, WINSTON 

Light on the Literary Life.120 

CODY, WILUAM F. 

Good Security 121 

"Buffalo Bill" in Paris 122 

Adventure with a Highway- 
man 124 

Too Quick for the Indian.. 125 
A Stage Driver's Experience. 126 
How He Came to be "Buf- 
falo Bill" 129 

A Buffalo in Camp 131 

COLLYER, ROBERT 

The Irishman Had His 
Doubts 132 

CORTELYOU, GEORGE B. 

The Twentieth Century 
Prodigal 133 

CUSTER. GEORGE A. 

A Friendly Word 134 

DAVIS, HENRY G. 

He Knew Things 137 

DEPEW. CHAUNCEY M. 

The First Speaker Had Said 

Enough 137 

Depew's Subtle Argument. .138 
How Piatt Stopped the Train. 139 

DEWEY. GEORGE 

The Capture of Dewey 139 

When Dewey Went A-Fish- 

ing With Joseph Jefferson. 140 
The Story of the Battle of 

Manila 141 



Dashing Ahead in Spite of 

Torpedoes 142^ 

Showers of Fragments 144 

Stopping the Battle for 
Breakfast 145 

EDISON, THOMAS A. 

His First Check 147 

ELIOT, CHARLES WILLIAM 

An Extended Chair 148 

The President's Generosity. 148 
A New President 149 

EMMETT. DAN 

The Story of "Dixie" 150 

EVANS, ROBLEY D. 

"Fighting Bob's Story" 155 

Ship Crowded to Utmost 

Speed 156 

The Spanish Ships on Fire. 157 
Superb Examples of Hero- 
ism 15^ 

FIELD. EUGENE 

"On the Contrary" i6a 

FAIRBANKS, CHARLES W. 
A Harmless Beverage 160 

FISK. CLINTON B. 

"Papa, Why Don't You 

Pray?" i6r 

"It Had to Be Done Then". 162 

Fisk's Army Tactics 164 

"Nigger Equality" 165 

FOLK, JOSEPH WINGATE 

A Story of Beginnings 166 

When Made Circuit Attor- 
ney He Surprised the Ma- 
chine 168 



Contents 



FORD. SIMEON 

The Autobiography of an 
After-Dinner Speaker 171 

Anticipation of a Speech 
Frequently Spoils a Din- 
ner 171 

One May Make a Good 
Speech and No One Will 
Smile 173 

Don't Blame a Bore: You'll 
Be Glad When He Stops. 174 

The Wise World Likes to 
Weep as Well as to 
Laugh 175 

The Guests Always Applaud 
the Creator of Laughter. .176 

FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN 

A Lesson in Time Value... 178 

Hunting for an Excuse 179 

Water Drinker 180 

Franklin's Wonderful Kite. 181 

FULTON, ROBERT 

The Sailing of the First 
Steamboat 182 

FUNSTON, FREDERICK 

How He Won Honors 184 

GAGE. LYMAN J. 

A Congressman Who Was 
Hard of Hearing 189 

GOUGH, JOHN B. 

The Tap on the Shoulder. .191 

A Battle for Life 193 

The Transformationof "Hell- 
Fire" 197 

Embarrassing Gratitude 199 

The Kindness of the Scotch 
Lassies 201 



GOULD, HELEN MILLER 

At Montauk Point 201 

The Finest Sailors' Club in 
the World 202 

GRANT, ULYSSES S. 

A New Horse 206 

Lack of Butter Gave Him a 

Start 207 

Grant at Lookout Mountain. 208 

Grant's Pony 211 

Who Stole the Honey 212 

A Kind Heart 213 

No Use for Speculators 214 

A Close Call 214 

"A Very Obstinate Man".. 215 
"The Grip of a Bulldog". . .215 

"Not a Retreating Man" 215 

Jackson's Disappointment. . .216 

GREELY ADOLPHUS W. 

Snatched from Death 218 

GREELEY. HORACE 

His Apprenticeship 219 

The Physician's Story 226 

Poe's Autograph 228 

Experiences in a Paris Jail. 228 
His Idea of How He Came 
to be Defeated for the 
Presidency 239 

HANNA. MARK A. 

Magnetic Eloquence 240 

HARRIS. JOEL CHANDLER 

Good for the Blues 241 

Afraid of the Public 241 

The Man He Had Been 
Waiting for 242 

HARTE, BRET 

His First Book 243 



Contents 



HAY, JOHN 

Dried Grass 245 

Lincoln and Hay 246 

How He Came to be a Jour- 
nalist 248 

HEARST, WILLIAM RANDOLPH 

How He Came to be an Edi- 
tor 249 

HENRY. PATRICK 

The People Against the Par- 
sons 250 

The Cry of Treason 254 

The Witchery of Eloquence.255 
Henry's Comic Power 256 

HOAR. GEORGE FRISBIE 

Why He Liked Salem 259 

HOBSON, RICHMOND P. 

The Sinking of the Merri- 

mac 260 

Ready to Meet Death 262 

Had an Ovation on Their 

Return •. . . 263 

Collier Almost Rent Asun- 
der 264 

Tide Drifted Her Around.. 265 
Captured by Cevera 267 

HOLMES, BURTON 

"Canned White Man" 267 

HOLMES, OLIVER WENDELL 

His Lecture Experiences.. . .268 
How Mark Twain Plagia- 
rized Holmes 270 

It Was Worth While 273 

At the Sunset 27Z 

HOUSTON. SAM 

The Battle Which Won 
Texas 275 



HOWARD. OLIVER O. 

The Empty Sleeve 279 

Afraid of His Prayers 281 

Under Fire 281 

At Sherman's Side 282 

A Helping Hand 283 

Conquering a Saloon-Keeper.285 
The Spokane Chief 285 

HOWE, JUUA WARD 

The Birth of "The Battle 
Hymn of the Republic". .286 

JACKSON, ANDREW 

His Meeting with John 

Quincy Adams 292 

The Death of Jackson's 

Wife 293 

Jackson's Mourning for His 

Lost Love 296 

A Lonely President 298 

How a Politician Got the 

Best of Jackson 299 

Jackson's Lesson to a For- 
eign Diplomat 301 

A Politician's Experience. . .305 
Pulling a President's Nose. 307 
Unselfish Friendship 309 

JACKSON, "STONEWALL" 

A Night Ride 310 

Why Jackson Did not Drink.312 
Jackoon Under Fire 313 

JEFFERSON, JOSEPH 

The Girl Who Sent Him 
Home 313 

A Sheriff Who Knew His 
Business 315 

The Old Man's Monologue. 316 

When Jefferson Was Ar- 
rested 316 



Contents 



The Spell Coming on Again.317 
"Dat's the Man" 318 

JEFFERSON, THOMAS 

His Love Story 319 

Story of the Declaration of 

Independence 322 

Jeflfersonian Simplicity 327 

JOHNSON. TOM L. 

From Newsboy to Mayor.. 329 

JONES. JOHN PAUL 

A Memorable Sea Fight 331 

KELLER. HELEN 

Feeling for the Light 338 

A Lesson in Tree Climbing. 343 

The Dawn of Love 345 

The Joy of Speech 347 

Friendship with Bishop 
Brooks and Dr. Holmes.. 347 

KEY. FRANCIS SCOTT 

The Story of the Star- Span- 
gled Banner 349 

KNOX. PHILANDER C. 

The Trust That Was Too 

Much for Him 355 

A Vivid Contrast 356 

LAWSON. THOMAS W. 
Encounter With a Wind 
Clock 356 

LEE. FITZHUGH 

A Sad Mistake 359 

LEE. ROBERT E. 

Duty Rather than Wealth . . 360 
Lee's Bottle of Whiskey. . .361 

General Lee's Treat 362 

A Shrewd Rebuke 362 



LINCOLN. ABRAHAM 

A Romance of the Civil 

War ...363 

Lincoln Securing a Pension. 370 
One of Lincoln's Pardons.. 372 
The Girl Who Didn't Wear 

Hoops 375 

Why the Lord Made so 

Many 376 

Lincoln's Prescription yj"] 

"Browsing Around for 

Something to Eat" 377 

Lincoln's First Great Sor- 
row yJ^ 

LIVERMORE, MARY A. 

With a Dying Soldier 379 

LONG, JOHN D. 

Seeking for a Place 384 

MACKAY. JOHN W. 

A Romance of a Mining 
Camp 38s 

MCCLELLAN. GEORGE B. 

When He Interviewed Mor- 
gan 389 

Office Seekers at Bay 390 ' 

MCKINLEY. WILLIAM 

His First Case 391 , 

A Witness with a Crooked 1 

Leg 392 I 

Loyalty to His Friend 392 ' 

Loyalty to Old Comrades. .394 ; 

A Midnight Interview 395 

How Sergeant McKinley 

Won His Lieutenancy. . . .396 

MILES. NELSON A. 

The Story of a Picture 397 ^ 

One of the Army of Chil- 1 

dren 399 



Conte;nts 



MILLER, JOAQUIN 

Stories of the Poet of the 

Sierras 400 

An Ideal Hospitality 402 

MORGAN, JOHN PIERPONT 

As An Art Gatherer 403 

jMorgan and the Reporter. .405 

MORSE, SAMUEL F. B. 

His Visit to Benjamin West.405 
An Interesting Student Ex- 
perience 406 

Morse's Day of Poverty. . . .410 
The Dark Hour Before Day.411 
The Maid Who Wanted to 
be Sent by Telegraph 412 

NYE. BILL 

Beating the Wizard at His 
Own Game 413 

OSLER. WILLIAM 

Taking a Prescription Lit- 
erally 415 

PARKER, ALTON BROOKS 

Red-Haired Presidents 415 

The Judge was Forgiving. .416 

PEARY. ROBERT E. 

How He Became an Arctic 
Explorer 417 

A Story of Arctic Heroism. 420 
, A Wife's Devoted Heroism. 422 

His Wife's Courage Nerved 
Him to Further Action... 423 

Her Enthusiastic Zeal Started 
the Arctic Club 424 

She Was Left Alone in Com- 
j mand of the Windward. .428 

PHILLIPS. WENDELL 

A Reformer's Birth 430 



How He Found His Wife. .431 
An Exciting Experience of - 

the Lecture Platform 431 

Phillips in Tremont Temple. 433 
Wendell Phillips and Jeffer- 
son Davis' Niece 435 

PLATT. THOMAS C. 

"Kept Quiet and ^Made Pills". 436 
The Principle of Protection. 437 

POCAHONTAS 

How She Saved Captain 

John Smith 438 

A Friendly Deed 440 

The Capture of Pocahontas. 440 
The Romantic Marriage of 

Pocahontas 441 

Pocahontas at the English 

Court 444 

Pocahontas' Last Interview 

with Captain John Smith. 446 

QUINCY, JOSIAH 

A Noble Tribute to a Mother.447 
A Hasty and Happy Court- 
ship 448 

A Politician's Trick 448 

A Specimen of Revolution- 
ary Wit 449 

Lafayette and Mrs. Hancock.449 

REED. THOMAS BRACKETT 

A Souvenir Hunter 450 

The Secret of Happiness. . .451 
One Way to Make a Friend.452 

ROCKEFELLER. JOHN D. 

His First Ledger 453 

ROOSEVELT. THEODORE 

The President's Audience. .455 
Roosevelt as a Policeman. .456 



Contents 



A Prophecy Fulfilled 456 

How Roosevelt Tamed "Me- 

dora Jim" 457 

The Colonel's Beef-Stew. ..458 
Had "Real Onions" in it. ..459 

ROOT, EUHU 

No Jurisdiction Over Creeks.461 

SCHLEY, WINFIELD SCOTT 

The Destruction of Cervera's 
Fleet 461 

A Battle Relic for Admiral 
Schley 465 

SHERIDAN, PHILIP HENRY 

How He Came to be Colonel.466 

STEPHENS, ALEXANDER H. 

A Speech That Made a Rep- 
utation 470 

STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER 

Genius Budding Under Dif- 
ficulties 472 

The Birth of "Uncle Tom's 
Cabin" 473 

Rejected by Publishers 479 

The Clouds Followed by 
Sunshine 480 

SUMNER, CHARLES 

No Woman Need Apply. ...482 

TALMAGE, T. DE WITT 
Emancipation from Manu- 
script 483 

TWAIN. MARK 

His Good Turn to General 
Grant 486 

VREELAND, HERBERT H. 

The Evolution of a Railroad 
Man 491 



WALLACE, LEW 
A Rude Awakening 497 

WANAMAKER. JOHN 

Success as a Merchant 499 

A Memory of Alexander T. 
Stewart 500 

WARD. ARTEMUS 

The Story of a Lecture. .. .501 

WASHINGTON. GEORGE 

His Modesty 504 

Braddock's Defeat 505 

An Ideal Husband 508 

The First Inauguration 510 

Major Andre and His Cap- 
ture 511 

Tragic Story of Andre's Ex- 
ecution 513 

WASHINGTON. BOOKER T. 

Picture of a Slave Boy's 

Childhood 515 

Naming Himself 517 

On His Way to College 518 

A Queer College Examina- 
tion 519 

A Great Oratorical Victory. 521 
An Inspiring Occasion 523 

WEBSTER. DANIEL 

A Narrow Escape 526 

Webster's Fascinating Pow- 
er Over the Public 527 

Daniel Webster's First Love.528 

WHEELER. JOSEPH 

How the Trenches Were 
Dug 532 

WHITTIER, JOHN GREENLEAF 

The Beginnings of a Poet.. 534 



Contents 



Whittier's Courage 536 

iP^lLLARD, EMMA 

The Hostess of Lafayette. .537 



WILLARD, FRANCES E. 

Teaching College Boys 539 

Winning a Car Full of Men.540 
A Hint at a Love Story 542 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Adams, John Quincy 

Frontispiece 

Addams, Jane 221 

Alger, Russell A 271 

Audubon, John James 67 

Bacheller, Irving 407 

Bangs, John Kendrick 425 

Barnum, Phineas T 203 

Beecher, Henry Ward 203 

Bergh, Henry 153 

Blaine, James G 135 

Booth, Edwin 425 

Bryan, William J 407 

Burr, Aaron 67 

Burroughs, John 203 

Butler, Benjamin F 153 

Cannon, Joseph G 135 

Carnegie, Andrew 135 

Childs, George W 289 

Choate, Joseph W 289 

Cody, William F 339 

Cortelyou, George B 407 

Custer, George A 85 

Davis, Henry G 407 

Depew, Chauncey M 289 

Edison, Thomas A 493 

Eliot, Charles William 203 

Evans, Robley D 357 

Field, Eugene 425 

Fairbanks, Charles Warren 271 
FisK, Clinton B 203 



Folk, Joseph Wingate 407 

Ford, Simeon 475 

Franklin, Benjamin 67 

Fulton, Robert 493 

Funston, Frederick 339 

Gage, Lyman G 271 

GouGH, John B 203 

Grant, Ulysses S 17 

Greeley, Horace 153 

Hanna, Mark 289 

Harte, Bret 475 

Hay, John 271 

Henry, Patrick 67 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell... 153 

Howard, Oliver O 357 

Howe, Julia Ward 221 

Jackson, Andrew .... Frontispiece 

Jackson, "Stonewall" 85 

Jefferson, Joseph 425 

Jefferson, Thomas. .Frontispiece 

Jones, John Paul 67 

Lee, Fitzhugh 357 

Lee, Robert E 85 

Lincoln, Abraham 17 

Livermore. Mary A 221 

Long, John D 271 

McClellan, George B 153 

McKinley, William 17 

Miles, Nelson A 357 

Miller, Joaquin 42S 

Morgan, John Pierpont 493 



10 



Illustrations 



Morse, Samuel F. B 493 

Nye, Bill 475 

Parker, Alton Brooks 407 

Peary, Robert E 339 

Platt, Thomas C 493 

Reed, Thomas Brackett 289 

Roosevelt, Theodore 17 

Root, Elihu 135 

Schley, Winfield Scott.... 357 
Sheridan, Philip Henry.... 85 
Stephens, Alexander H. . . . 85 



Stowe, Harriet Beecher. . . . 221 

Sumner, Charles 135 

Talmage, T. DeWitt 203 

Twain, Mark 475 

Wallace, Lew 339 

Ward, Artemas 475 

Washington, GEORGE.Frontispiece 

Webster, Daniel 67 

Wheeler, Joseph 339 

Whittier, John Greenleaf. 153 
Willard, Frances E 221 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE 



BIOGRAPHY, where the real personality is 
revealed, is ever the most entertaining and 
instructive of all literature. This is a book of 
biography at magnetic points. It is full of the 
w^arm, red blood of very live men and women. 

It has been the purpose of the author to gather 
in this volume such stories of love, heroism, and 
adventurous daring, together with lighter incident, 
as would make the personalities of the people 
discussed, alive and real to the reader. More than 
half of those whose names are disclosed in this table 
of contents are yet living among us, and the rest 
still live in these stories of a vital personal career 
which make them immortal. 

The author has not attempted, in compiling this 
volume, to make it exhaustive. Another volume 
might be made like it, with different names, and 
another, and another, so rich is American history and 
American life in strong and vigorous and heroic 
personality. But he has sought to give the reader 

II 



a rich mine of striking, virile stories of picturesque 

interest and variety, into which it would always be a 

pleasure to delve, either for entertainment, or to find 

golden nuggets for use. 

Whatever may be the judgment of the readers 

as to the wisdom of the selections, in the midst of 

such embarrassment of resources, the author feels 

that the book will at least have one great merit — it 

will be interesting, and no one will be able to spend 

an hour with it without his wits being brightened, 

and his heart stirred by communion with genuine 

and attractive people. 

Louis Albert Banks. 

New York City. 



12 



JOHN QUINCY ADAMS 




THE FAREWELL TO LAFAYETTE 

NE of the most picturesque and brilliant incidents in 
the life of John Quincy Adams is furnished in the 
story of his farewell to Lafayette at the close of 
the great Frenchman's final visit to America dur- 
ing the administration of Mr. Adams as President 
of the United States. After an extended visit, the 7th of 
September, 1825, was appointed for the leave-taking of the dis- 
tinguished visitor. About twelve o'clock, the officers of the 
general Government, civil, military, and naval, together with 
the authorities of Washington, Georgetown, and Alexan- 
dria, with multitudes of citizens and strangers, assembled in 
the President's house. Lafayette entered the great hall in 
silence, leaning on the Marshal of the District and one of the 
sons of the President. Mr. Adams then, with evident emotion, 
but with much dignity and firmness, addressed Lafayette with 
great eloquence and at some length, his speech closing with 
these words : 

"At the painful moment of parting from you, we take 
comfort in the thought, that wherever you may be, to the last 
pulsation of your heart, our country will ever be present to 
your affections ; and a cheering consolation assures us that 
we are not called to sorrow, most of all, that we shall see your 
face no more. We shall indulge the pleasing anticipation of 
beholding our friend again. In the meantime, speaking in the 



14 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

name of the whole people of the United States, and at a loss 
only for language to give utterance to that feeling of attach- 
ment with which the heart of the nation beats, as beats the 
heart of one man — I bid you a reluctant and affectionate 
farewell !" 

Lafayette replied with a happy speech, very tender and 
sympathetic. At the close he burst out with this exclamation : 

"God bless you, sir, and all who surround us. God bless 
\he American people, each of their States, and the Federal 
Government. Accept this patriotic farewell of an overflowing 
heart. Such will be its last throb when it ceases to beat." 

As the last sentence of the farewell was pronounced Lafay- 
ette advanced and took President Adams in his arms, while 
tears poured down his venerable cheeks. Retiring a few paces, 
he was overcome by his feelings, and again returned, and, fall- 
ing on the neck of Mr. Adams, exclaimed in broken accents, 
"God bless you!" It was a scene at once solemn and moving, 
as the sighs and tears of many who witnessed it bore testi- 
mony. Having recovered his self-possession, the General 
stretched out his hands, and was in a moment surrounded by 
the greetings of the whole assembly, who pressed upon him, 
each eager to seize, perhaps for the last time, that beloved 
hand which was opened so freely for our aid when aid was 
so precious, and which grasped with firm and undeviating hold 
the steel which so bravely helped to achieve our deliverance. 
The expression which now beamed from the face of this 
exalted man was of the finest and most touching kind. The 
hero was lost in the father and the friend. Dignity melted into 
subdued affection, and the friend of Washington seemed to 
linger with a mournful delight among the sons of his adopted 
country. 

A considerable period was then occupied in conversing with 
various individuals, while refreshments were presented to the 
company. The moment of departure at length arrived; and 



John Quincy Adams 15 

having once more pressed the hand of Mr. Adams, he entered 
the barouche, accompanied by the Secretaries of State, of 
the Treasury, and of the Navy, and passed from the capital 
of the Union. An immense procession accompanied him to 
the banks of the Potomac, where the steamboat Mount Vernon 
awaited to convey him down the river to the frigate Brandy- 
wine. The whole scene — the peals of artillery, the sounds of 
numerous military bands, the presence of the vast concourse 
of people, and the occasion that assembled them, produced 
emotions not easily described, but which every American heart 
can readily conceive. As the steamboat moved oflf, the deepest 
silence was observed by the whole multitude that lined the 
shore. The feelings that pervaded them was that of children 
bidding farewell to a venerated parent. 

When the boat came opposite the tomb of Washington, at 
Mount Vernon, it paused in its progress. Lafayette arose. 
The wonders which he had performed, for a man for his age, 
in successfully accomplishing labors enough to have tested 
his meridian vigor, whose animation rather resembled the 
spring than the winter of life, now seemed unequal to the 
task he was about to perform. He advanced to the effort. A 
silence the most impressive reigned around, till the strains of 
sweet and plaintive music completed the grandeur and sacred 
solemnity of the scene. All hearts beat in unison with the 
throbbings of the veteran's bosom, as he looked, for the last 
time, on the sepulchre which contained the ashes of the first of 
men! 

AN ILLUSTRATION OF ADAMS* BROADMINDEDNESS 

Mr. King, in his eulogy of John Quincy Adams, says : 

"It was in my hearing that, to a representation that a 

certain important and influential functionary of the General 

Government in New York was using the power of his ofhce 

adversely to Mr. Adams' re-election, and that he ought to 



1 6 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

desist or be removed, Mr. Adams made his reply: 'That 
gentleman is one of the best officers in the public service. I 
have had occasion to know his diligence, exactness, and punc- 
tuality. On public grounds, therefore, there is no cause of 
complaint against him, and upon no other will I remove him. 
If I cannot administer the Government on these principles, I 
am content to go back to Ouincy!' Being in Baltimore 
on a certain occasion, among those introduced to him was a 
gentleman who accosted him thus — 'Mr. President, though I 
differ from you in opinion, I am glad to find you in good 
health.' The President gave him a hearty shake of the hand, 
and replied, — 'Sir, in our happy and free country, we can 
differ in opinion without being enemies.' " 

ADAMS AS A CONVERSATIONAUST 

A Southern gentleman who visited Adams at his home in 
Quincy, Massachusetts, in 1834, some years after his retire- 
ment from the Presidency, gives a bright account of the versa- 
tility of his genius, the profoundness of his erudition, and his 
remarkable quality as a conversationalist. 

"Yesterday, accompanied by my friend T., I paid a visit 
to the venerable ex-President, at his residence in Quincy. A 
violent rain setting in as soon as we arrived, gave us from 
five to nine o'clock to listen to the learning of this man of 
books. His residence is a plain, very plain one; the room 
into which we were ushered (the drawing-room, I suppose), 
was furnished in true republican style. It is probably of 
ancient construction, as I perceived two beams projecting from 
the low ceiling, in the manner of the beams in a ship's cabin. 
Prints commemorative of political events, and the old family 
portraits, hung about the room ; common straw matting cov- 
ered the floor, and two candlesticks, bearing sperm candles, 
ornamented the mantel-piece. The personal appearance of the 
ex-President himself corresponds with the simplicity of his 




ABRAHAM LINCOLN WILLIAM McKINLEY 

ULYSSES S. GRANT THEODORE ROOSEVELT 



John Ouincy Adams i^ 

furniture. He resembles rather a substantial, well-fed farmer, 
than one who has wielded the destinies of the mighty Con- 
federation, and been bred in the ceremony and etiquette of an 
European Court. In fact, he appears to possess none of that 
sternness of character which you would suppose to belong to 
one a large part of whose life has been spent in political war- 
fare, or, at any rate, amidst scenes requiring a vast deal of 
nerve and inflexibility. 

"Mrs. Adams is described in a word — a lady. She has all 
the warmth of heart and ease of manner that mark the charac- 
ter of the Southern ladies, and from which it would be no 
easy matter to distinguish her. 

"The ex-President was the chief talker. He spoke with 
infinite ease, drawing upon his vast resources with the cer-- 
tainty of one who has his lecture before him ready written. 
The whole of his conversation, which steadily he maintained 
for nearly four hours, was a continued stream of light. Well 
contented was I to be a listener. His subjects were the archi- 
tecture of the Middle Ages; the stained glass of that period; 
sculpture, embracing monuments particularly. On this sub- 
ject his opinion of Mrs. Nightingale's monument in West- 
minster Abbey differs from all others that I have seen or 
heard. He places it above every other in the Abbey, and 
observed in relation to it, that the spectator 'saw nothing else.' 
Milton, Shakespeare, Shenstone, Pope, Byron, and Southey 
were in turn remarked upon. He gave Pope a wonderfully 
high character, and remarked that one of his chief beauties 
was the skill exhibited in varying the cesural pause — quoting 
from various parts of his author to illustrate his remarks more 
fully. He said very little on the politics of the country. He 
spoke at considerable length of Sheridan and Burke, both of 
whom he had heard, and could describe with the most graphic 
eft'ect. He also spoke of Junius, and placed him far above the 
best of his contemporaries. He spoke of him as a bad man;. 



20 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

but maintained as a writer that he had never been equalled. 
The conversation never flagged for a moment; and on the 
whole, I shall remember my visit to Quincy, as amongst the 
most instructive and pleasant I ever passed." 

ADAMS* BREAD-CRUST 

Edward Everett tells this interesting incident of Adams in 
the National House of Representatives, where he spent the 
last seventeen years of his life : 

"My seat was, for two years, by his side, and it would 
have scarcely more surprised me to miss one of the marble 
columns of the Hall from its pedestal than to see his chair 
empty. * * * j shall, perhaps, be pardoned for introduc- 
ing here a slight personal recollection, which serves, in some 
degree, to illustrate his habits. The sessions of the last two 
days of (I think) the twenty-third Congress, were prolonged, 
the one for nineteen, and the other for seventeen hours. At 
the close of the last day's session, he remained in the hall of 
the House the last seated member of the body. One after 
another, the members had gone home ; many of them for hours. 
The hall — brilliantly lighted up, and gaily attended, as was, 
and perhaps is still, the custom at the beginning of the last 
evening of a session — had become cold, dark, and cheerless. 
Of the members who remained, to prevent the public business 
from dying for want of a quorum, most but himself were sink- 
ing from exhaustion, although they had probably taken their 
meals at the usual hours, in the course of the day. After the 
adjournment, I went up to Mr. Adams' seat, to join company 
with him, homeward ; and as I knew he came to the House at 
eight o'clock in the morning, and it was then past midnight, 
I expressed a hope that he had taken some refreshment in 
the course of the day. He said he had not left his seat; but 
holding up a bit of hard bread in his fingers, gave me to 
understand in what way he had sustained nature." 



John Ouincy Adams 21 

THE WONDERFUL VITALITY OF THE "OLD MAN ELOQUENT' 

It was generally supposed that the remote cause of the 
death of John Quincy Adams was a severe injury he received 
by a fall in the House of Representatives in June, 1840. The 
accident is thus described by an eye-witness : 

"It had been a very warm day, and the debates had par- 
taken of extraordinary excitement, when, a few moments be- 
fore sunset, the House adjourned, and most of the members 
had sought relief from an oppressive atmosphere, in the arbors 
and recesses of the adjoining Congressional gardens. 

"At that time I held a subordinate clerkship in the House, 
which usually confined me, the larger portion of the day not 
devoted to debate, to one of the committee rooms ; whilst the 
balance of the day I occupied as a reporter. 

"Mr. Adams was always the first man in the House, and 
the last man out of it ; and, as I usually detained myself an 
hour or more after adjournment, in writing up my notes, I 
often came in contact with him. He was pleased to call at my 
desk very often before he went home, and indulged in some 
incidental, unimportant conversation. On the day referred to,. 
just as the sun was setting, and was throwing his last rays- 
through the murky hall, I looked up, and saw Mr. Adams 
approaching. He had almost reached my desk, and had up- 
lifted his hand in friendly salutation, when he pitched headlong, 
some six or eight feet, and struck his head against the sharp 
corner of an iron rail that defended one of the entrance aisles 
leading to the circle within the bar, inflicting a heavy contu- 
sion on his forehead, and rendering him insensible. I instantly 
leaped from my seat, took the prostrate sufferer in my arms, 
and found that he was in a state of utter stupor and insensi- 
bility. Looking around for aid, I had the good fortune to find 
that Colonel James Monroe, of the New York delegation, had 
just returned to his desk to procure a paper he had forgotten, 
when, giving the alarm, he flew to the rescue, manifesting the 



22 Capital Stories oi^ Famous Americans 

deepest solicitude for the welfare of the venerable statesman. 
Follansbee, the doorkeeper, with two or more of his pages, 
came in next; and after we had applied a plentiful supply of 
cold water to the sufferer, he returned to consciousness, and 
requested that he might be taken to his residence. In less than 
five minutes, Mr. Moses H. Grinnell, Mr. George H. Profit, 
Mr. Ogden Hoffman, and Colonel Christopher Williams, of 
Tennessee, were called in, a carriage was procured, and Mr. 
Adams was being conveyed to his residence in President 
Square, when, it being ascertained that his shoulder was dis- 
located, the carriage was stopped at the door of the private 
hotel of Colonel Monroe, in Pennsylvania Avenue, between 
Eleventh and Twelfth Streets ; the suffering, but not com- 
plaining statesman, was taken out, and surgical aid instantly 
put in requisition. Doctor Sewall was sent for; when it was 
ascertained that the left shoulder- joint was out of the socket; 
and, though Mr, Adams must have suffered intensely, he com- 
plained not — did not utter a groan or a murmur. 

"More than an hour elapsed before the dislocated limb 
could be adjusted; and to effect which, his arm endured, in a 
concentrated and continued wrench or pull, many minutes at 
a time, the united strength of Messrs. Grinnell, Monroe, Profit, 
and Hoffman. Still Mr. Adams uttered not a murmur, 
though the great drops of sweat that rolled down his furrowed 
cheeks, or stood upon his brow, told but too well the physical 
agony he endured. As soon as his arm was adjusted, he 
insisted on being carried home, and his wish was granted. 

"The next morning I was at the capitol at a very early 
hour, attending to some writing. I thought of, and lamented 
the accident that had befallen Mr. Adams, and had already 
commenced writing an account of it to a correspondent. At 
that instant I withdrew my eyes from the paper on which I 
was writing, and saw Mr. Adams standing a foot or two 
from me, carefully examining the carpeting. 'Sir,' said he. 



John Quincy Adams 23 

'I am looking for that place in the matting that last night 
tripped me. If it be not fastened down, it may kill some one.' 
And then he continued his search for the trick-string matting." 

DYING AT HIS POST 

The death of John Quincy Adams was as fitting as it was 
memorable. On the morning of November 21, 1846, he rose 
at his usual very early hour, and engaged in his accustomed 
occupations with his pen. An extraordinary alacrity pervaded 
his movements, and the cheerful step with which he ascended 
the steps of the Capitol was remarked by his attendants. He 
occupied a portion of the forenoon in composing a few stanzas 
of poetry, at the request of a friend, and had signed his name 
twice for members who desired to obtain his autograph. 

Mr. Chase had introduced a resolution of thanks to Gen- 
erals Twiggs, Worth, Quitman, Pillow, Shields, Pearce, Cad- 
walader, and Smith, for their services in the Mexican War, 
and awarding them gold medals. Mr. Adams was in his seat, 
and voted on the two questions preliminary to ordering its en- 
grossment, with an uncommonly emphatic tone of voice. About 
half past one o'clock, P.M., as the Speaker had risen to put 
another question to the House, the proceedings were suddenly 
interrupted by cries of "Stop! stop! Mr. Adams!" There 
/Was a quick movement towards the chair of Mr. Adams, by 
two or three members, and in a moment he was surrounded 
by a large number of Representatives, eagerly inquiring — 
"What's the matter?" "Has he fainted?" "Is he dead?" 
John Quincy Adams, while faithful at his post, and appar- 
ently about to rise to address the Speaker, had sunk into a 
state of unconsciousness ! He had been struck a second time 
with paralysis. The scene was one of intense excitement. 
Pallor, anxiety, alarm, were depicted on every countenance. 
"Take him out." "Bring water," exclaimed several voices. 
He had been prevented from falling to the floor by a Member 



24 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

from Ohio, whose seat was near his — Mr. Fisher — who re- 
ceived him in his arms. Immediately Mr. Grinnell, one of 
his colleagues from Alassachusetts was by his side, keeping 
off anxious friends, and bathing his face with ice-water. 

He was immediately lifted into the area in front of the 
Clerk's table. The Speaker instantly suggested that some 
gentleman move an adjournment, which, being promptly done, 
the House adjourned. A sofa was brought, and Mr. Adams, 
in a state of perfect helplessness though not of entire insensi- 
l)ility, was gently laid upon it. He was removed into the 
Speaker's apartment, where he lingered for two days — Con- 
gress, in the meantime, assembling in respectful silence, and 
immediately adjourning from day to day. Silence reigned 
through the halls of the Capitol, save the cautious tread and 
whispered inquiry of anxious questioners. The soul of a sage, 
a patriot, a Christian, was preparing to depart from the world ! 
— no sound was heard to ruffle its sweet serenity — a calmness 
and peace fitting the momentous occasion prevailed around 1 

The elements of life and death continued their uncertain 
l)alance, until seven o'clock on the evening of November 23, 
when the spirit of John Ouincy Adams bade adieu to earth 
forever, and winged its flight to God. Only once after receiv- 
ing the deathstroke did he awake to consciousness, and uttered 
his last words : "This is the last of earth. I am content." 

JANE ADDAMS 

"THE YELLOW KID" 

/^F peasant life in Russia, Jane Addams tells this story: 
^-^ "I went with a friend to a peasant home to call on an 
old lady who was famous among her neighbors because she 
could read. The common belief was that she had been taught 
to read by Tolstoi. It seems that, years before, Tolstoi had 
given her a few lessons in reading, but she had forgotten most 



Russell A. Alger 25 

of the little she had learned. However, she was fond of telling 
her friends marvelous stories about people in other lands, of 
whom she said she had read in books. One of these stories 
was that Americans were black. So when we were presented, 
one of her friends asked : 

" 'Why, these ladies are not black, and they came from 
America. How is this ? You told us Americans were black.' 
"The old lady was disconcerted for a minute, and then ex- 
plained : 'Why, there are two kinds of people in America, 
and I told you about only one kind. There are black people 
and yellow people, and these ladies are the yellow kind.' " 

RUSSELL A. ALGER 

THE TOP PRICE FOR A COW 

GENERAL RUSSELL A. ALGER, former Secretary of 
War, is said to have paid the record price for a cow — 
and that a dead one. He was an orphan in Richfield, Ohio, 
without a cent and with but one suit of clothes. He wanted 
to attend school, and went to a doctor who lived in a neighbor- 
ing- village to ask for a chance to work for his board. The 
doctor did not need the services of a boy, but was so much 
impressed by young Alger's earnestness that he took him into 
his family and sent him to school. He did no work except to 
care for the doctor's horse and cow. The years sped on, and 
Russell A. Alger became a millionaire, while his benefactor 
was reduced to straitened circumstances. One by one the 
doctor's children died, and he and his aged wnfe were left 
alone. But the old man kept his pride, and when General 
Alger assisted him he was forced to do so in roundabout ways. 
A dozen years or so ago, the General paid the doctor a visit,, 
determining to aid him. 

"Why, Alger, you don't ow^e me anything," said the old 
man, "and I won't take anything." 



26 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

"But I owe my education to you." 

"Bosh ! You owe that to yourself." 

"But I caused you trouble and expense, for which I want 
to repay you." 

"The trouble need not trouble you, and there wasn't any 
expense worth talking about. In fact, the only expense that 
you caused me, so far as I can remember, was the loss of a 
cow. Do you know, Alger, that, when you came to live with 
me, I had the best cow in these parts, and that your awkward- 
ness completely spoiled her? Within three weeks you had 
made her so skittish that no one could go near her, and I had 
to sell her for beef." 

"Then I owe you for that cow. I am going to pay you 
for her, and to add a little interest for the use of the money 
for about forty years." 

After long argument the old man reluctantly consented to 
receive pay for his cow, and the check that General Alger drew 
to his order kept him in comfort for the remainder of his life. 

SHARING CFiEDIT WITH HIS WIFE 

Russell A. Alger came out of the Civil War at thirty, with 
the rank of a brigadier-general, and a splendid record as a 
fighter, but with only a few hundred dollars at his command. 
This sum he lost in a brick-making venture at Detroit. He 
then turned his attention to the lumber business, soon to dis- 
cover, however, that there was no way to succeed but to go 
out in the woods and conduct lumbering in person. "I had 
some gentlemen to back me with money," said he, "and the 
first year I walked a hundred and fifty miles through the woods, 
with a pack on my back, to select the timber. My wife also 
proved equal to the emergency, and went with me into the 
woods. Our house, that winter, was a little log cabin, a hun- 
dred miles away from the railroad, and Mrs. Alger did her 
own cooking, rising at four o'clock in the morning to prepare 



John James Audubon 2j 

my breakfast. It was thus that I got my start, and half of the 
credit for it belongs to my wife." 



PHILIP D. ARMOUR 

THE CLERK WHO HELD HIS OWN 

T)HILIP D. ARMOUR, like J. P. Morgan, would never hire 
a clerk for less than one thousand dollars a year. One 
day a young man applied to Mr. Armour for a clerkship. ■ 

"Well, sir, how little do you want for your services?" he 
asked. "You must understand that times are hard. We are 
onl}^ killing eight million hogs and five million beeves a year." 

The young man said : "Mr. Armour, I would not be here, 
if I did not know times are hard, and I'll be easy with you. 
ril begin at ten dollars a week, if you will agree to increase 
my salary one dollar for every one hundred thousand beeves 
you don't kill under five million, and one dollar for every 
two hundred thousand hogs you don't kill under eight million." 

With his shrewd eyes, Mr. Armour looked at the young 
man, then said, abruptly : "As a rule, I dislike precocious 
youngsters ; they don't last. But I'll let you start in at twenty- 
five dollars a week, without conditions. I do it, too, with some 
fear that in a few years you will own the business." 

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON 

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, the great American naturalist, 
lived his life largely in the forest wilds, and his story is 
full of interesting incidents and vivid experiences. 

LIFE IN AN OSAGE INDIAN CAMP 

Audubon gives this picture of one of his experiences among 
the Osage Indians. He says : "The Osages being a new race 
to me, I went often to their camp to study their character and 



28 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

habits ; but found much difficulty in becoming acquainted with 
them. They spoke no French and only a few words of Eng- 
hsh, and their general demeanor proved them to be a noble 
race. They were delighted to see me draw, and when I made 
a tolerable likeness of one of them, with red chalk, they cried 
out with astonishment, and laughed excessively. 

"The bones we threw around our camp attracted many 
wolves, and afforded us much sport in hunting them. Here 
I passed six weeks pleasantly, investigating the habits of wild 
deer, bears, cougars, racoons, and turkeys, and many other 
animals, and I drew more or less by the side of our great 
camp-fire every day ; and no one can have an idea what a good 
fire is who has never seen a camp-fire in the woods of America. 
Imagine four or five ash-trees, three feet in diameter and sixty 
feet long, cut and piled up, with all their limbs and branches, 
ten feet high, and then a fire kindled on the top with brush 
and dry leaves; and then imder the smoke the party lies down 
and goes to sleep, , 

"Here our bread gave out ; and after using the breast of 
wild turkeys for bread, and bear's grease for butter, and eat- 
ing opossum and bear's meat until our stomachs revolted, it 
was decided that a Kentuckian named Pope, our clerk, and a 
good woodsman, should go with me to the nearest settlement 
and try and bring some Indian meal. On the way we saw a 
herd of deer, and turned aside to shoot one ; and having done 
so, and marked the place, we continued our journey. We 
walked until dusk, and no river appeared. Just then I noticed 
an Indian trail, which we supposed led to the river; and after 
following it a short distance, entered the camp we had left in 
the morning. My partner, finding that we had no wheaten 
loaves in our hands, and no bags of meal on our backs, said 
we were boobies ; the boatmen laughed, the Indians joined 
the chorus, and we ate some cold racoon, and stumbled into 
our buffalo robes, and were soon enjoying our sleep." 



John James Audubon 29 

A QUEER FISH 

As Audubon rambled one day beside his favorite river, he 
observed a man landing from a boat, with what appeared a 
bundle of dried clover on his back. No sooner had the ex- 
clamation "What an odd-looking fellow! an original, surely!" 
crossed his mind, than he perceived the stranger approach 
him in haste, and with astonishment, heard him inquire for 
the house of Mr. Audubon. With the cordial hospitality which 
characterized him, Audubon instantly replied, "Why, I am 
the man, and will gladly lead you to my dwelling." 

The traveler thus happily relieved from all perplexity as 
to his entree, actually clapped his hands with delight. He 
then took from his pocket a letter of introduction, which he 
presented. Its contents were : 

"My Dear Audubon: 

"I send you an odd fish, which may prove to be unde- 
scribed ; if so, I hope you will let me have an account in 
your next letter. Believe me always your friend, B." 

With an amusing simplicity worthy of this Cincinnatus of 
science, Audubon unhesitatingly asked the bearer, "where the 
odd fish was?" 

Perplexity was now his, wdien, with perfect good humor 
and self-possession, Monsieur de Thouville, in whose presence 
he was, replied, "I am that odd fish, I presume, Mr. Audubon." 

A ROMANTIC HONEYIVIOON 

On cne of Audubon's journeys through the wild forests in 
company with his son, they found themselves lost on a stormy 
night. The rain fell in torrents, the thunder roared, and light- 
ning flamed. They dared not stop, and they knew no refuge. 
Suddenly they caught the glimmer of a light apparently not 
far off. At the same moment the barking of dogs fell grate- 
fullv on their ears in the solitude. They exchanged a salute. 



30 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

and no sooner had they done so than a pine torch glared across 
the gloom. Without any ceremony of questioning, the negro 
boy by whom it was borne enjoined the travelers to follow him. 
The door of a dwelling was soon reached, when a tall fine- 
looking young fellow desired them to enter. Spite the humble 
dimensions of the cabin no more inviting refuge could be 
imagined. It had evidently only been recently constructed by 
the inmates, a young couple, who with the amiable simplicity 
of wood-doves, had sought this humble shelter in which to tell 
all the happy tale of love. It was built of logs of the tulip 
tree, neatly carved, and slabs of wood, white as snow, fomied 
the floor. A large spinning-wheel, with rolls of cotton, occu- 
pied one corner, and sundry garments, its produce, testified 
the ingenious industry of the young matron. A small cup- 
board contained a stock of bright new crockery, in dishes, 
plates, and pans. The table and other few pieces of furniture 
shone bright as polished walnut could be. The only bed it 
contained was of domestic manufacture. A fine rifle orna- 
mented the mantel-shelf. The ready activity and cheerful un- 
remitting attention shown by the young wife towards the 
strangers proved the sincerity of her pleasure in sharing her 
husband's expressions of hospitality. 

The wanderers, seated by the fire, had fresh clothes, warm 
and dry, presented to them in return for their drenched gar- 
ments. The blaze of the wood logs illumined the cottage, and 
the sight of poultry told of good cheer, when the host expressed 
his regret "that the travelers had not arrived three weeks 
earlier; for," said he, "it was our wedding day. My father 
gave us a good house-warming, and you might have fared 
better; but if you can eat bacon, with eggs and a broiled 
chicken, you shall have that. I have no whisky ; but my father 
has some excellent cider. I'll go for a keg of it — it's only 
three miles, so I'll be back before Eliza has cooked your sup- 
per." In a minute, through the pouring of the rain, which fell 



John Jame;s Audubon 31 

in torrents, the galloping of his horse was heard. Meantime, 
the negroes ground some coffee, and bread was baked by the 
fair young wife. The cloth was set, and all arranged, when 
the clattering of hoofs told the husband's return. He entered, 
bearing a two-gallon keg of cider. His eyes beamed with 
benevolent pleasure at the adventure, while, seated by the fire, 
he filled a bowl with the sparkling juice. Supper over, part 
of the bedding was arranged for the guests. Sweetly they 
slept till the return of morning, when, after a hearty breakfast, 
they pursued their way, now with a brighter atmosphere and 
more buoyant hopes. The young woodsman headed the party 
on horseback till beyond the difficulties of the road, when, after 
a friendly farewell, he returned to his dear Eliza and his deli- 
cious honeymoon. 

AUDUBON'S FAVORITE BIRD 

Above all the birds of the forest Audubon loved the wood- 
thrush. It was associated to him with a black, desolate night 
in the depths of the wood when the loneliness entered into his 
soul. He was weary, hungry and sad, and had, above all, the 
anticipation of the destruction of his treasured drawings on 
which he had spent so much time, and had risked even life 
itself. All night long the storm beat upon him. He dared 
not sleep, even if that had been possible. The water came 
rushing through the tent, forcing its miserable inhabitant to 
stand erect and give protection to his treasures, the mean- 
while, shivering as in an ague, and tormented with mosqui- 
toes. With a martyr's patience, he waited the return of the 
day ! How did his memory return to the peaceful, happy days 
of his early youth, the delights of his home, and the embraces 
of his family, questioning if ever again he should behold them. 
Then as the first beams of morning spread over the dusky mass 
of foliage, the musical notes of the wood-thrush — that joyful 
herald of the day, broke gratefully upon his ear, as if to re- 



32 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

assure his doubting spirit. Fervently as he listened did he 
bless that Being who created this companion to console his 
solitude, cheer his depression, and sustain his faith under all 
situations. His -fears vanished at the inspiring strain of the 
songster, and were replaced by buoyant hopes. The heavens 
gradually cleared. The gladdening rays of the sun, rising 
from the distant horizon, dissipated the gray mist spread over 
the face of nature, and increased in intensity, till the majestic 
orb shone in complete effulgence on the sight, as the clear, fresh 
notes of the thrush were heard, echoed by all the choristers of 
the wood. 

THE ROMANCE OF A RUNAWAY SLAVE 

Audubon was one day creeping his way through the heart 
of a great Southern swamp, laden with the double burden of 
his weighty gun, and a rich booty of rich ibises, directing his 
course towards home. Unexpectedly he came upon the banks 
of a miry pool. As he could not ascertain the depth of the 
water, owing to its muddiness, he thought it best, while wading 
through it, to dispense with his burden, which he flung to 
the opposite margin. Then drawing his knife, as a defense 
against alligators, he plunged into the pool, followed by his 
faithful dog, Plato. 

Soon he had reason to think that alligators were not the 
only enemies to be feared. Scarcely had he reached the shore 
when his dog exhibited unmistakable signs of terror at some 
discovery he was the first to make. Audubon, supposing his 
fear to proceed from the scent of some bear or wolf, put his 
hand on his gun, when he was enlightened as to the cause of 
alarm by a loud voice, which commanded him to ''stand still, 
or die." Astonished and indignant at so singular and peremp- 
tory a mandate, in such a place, he determined to resist it, no 
matter from whom it proceeded ; and instantly cocked his gun, 
though unable to perceive the hidden challenger. 



John James Audubon 33 

Presently a stout negro emerged from his lurking-place, 
where he had crouched in the brushwood, and repeated his 
command in a still more threatening tone. 

Audubon perceiving, however, the worthlessness of the gun 
which his enemy was about to aim at his breast, forbore to use 
his own, and only gently tapped his trusty Plato. He had no 
reason to regret the forbearance, for the negro, instead of en- 
deavoring to take advantage of it, seemed entirely disarmed 
by such generosity. In answer to Audubon's inquiries, his 
simple story was soon told, and the energetic demonstrations 
of the poor runaway were seemingly fully accounted for by 
other' than guilty motives. In constant apprehension of pur- 
suit, his dread of capture caused him at the least signal of 
alarm, he said, to stand on the defensive. "Alaster," he con- 
tinued, "my tale is short and sorrowful. ]\Iy camp is close by. 
You cannot reach home to-night. If you wnll follow me, 
depend upon my honor that you shall be safe until the morning, 
when, if you please, I will carry your birds for you to the Great 
Road." As he spoke, the benevolence of his intelligent eyes, 
with the attraction of his voice and manner, so assured Audu- 
bon — ^never unnecessarily suspicious — that he assented, with a 
slight emphasis, however, on the phrase that he would follow 
him. 

The negro, observing it, in order to put his companion at 
ease, then threw away the flint and priming of his gun. His 
knife he presented to Audubon, who, desirous of showing 
equal generosity, refused it. On they went through the woods 
together, Audubon not failing to observe that the course they 
pursued was directly contrary to his homeward road. After 
traveling some distance, the negro leading the way, with the 
accuracy of a redskin, over tangled swamps and stagnant 
streams, Audubon was startled by a loud shriek from his com- 
panion. Involuntarily he again leveled his gun. "No harm, 
master," said the negro in answer, "I only give notice to my 



34 Capital Stories About Famous Ami;ricans 

wife and children of my approach." The signal was answered 
in gentler tones from female lips, when an expression of de- 
light, which disclosed his ivory teeth, lightened across the 
negro's countenance. "Master," he said, with a winning sim- 
plicity, "my wife, though black, is as beautiful to me as the 
President's wife is to him. She is my queen, and our young 
ones are our princes. But you shall see them, for here they all 
are, thank God." They soon reached the very heart of a cane 
brake, and here the poor fugitives had formed their camp, the 
few possessions of which were neatly and carefully disposed. 
The kindly demeanor of the negro, together with the amiable 
expression of his affection for his family, had now completely 
won Audubon's confidence. Convinced of his host's good in- 
tentions, and the sincerity of his hospitality, he did not hesitate 
to remain beneath his roof. While he received every attention 
which could ensure his comfort, the children caressed his 
dog, and after partaking heartily of a savory repast, he eagerly 
listened to the painful recital of the negro's trials. 

The master to whom he and his family had at first belonged, 
had been obliged, in consequence of some heavy losses he had 
sustained, to offer them for sale. The negro was purchased 
by a planter — his wife became the possession of another, a 
hundred miles distant, and the children were hurried to dif- 
ferent places. The loving heart of the slave was overwhelmed 
with grief at the calamity of this great loss. For the time, en- 
tirely prostrated by the misfortune, he sorrowed in the deepest 
dejection, without energy or hope. At length the powers of 
resistance awakened. He resolved to act boldly, and without 
delay. One stormy night, when the fury of the hurricane 
favored him by causing every one to seek the shelter of his 
dv/elling, he effected his escape, his intimate knowledge of the 
neighboring swamps and brakes facilitating his design. A few 
nights afterwards he had again the joy of embracing his be- 
loved wife — the next day they wandered together. 



John Jame;s Audubon ' 35 

Through his caution and unwearied assiduity he succeeded 
in obtaining one after another the children, till at length all the 
cherished objects of his affection were gathered, like a tender 
brood beneath the sheltering wing of a bird, under his care. 
But with the joy of this renewed protection was mingled a 
painful sense of responsibility, wandering in dreary wilds, 
where scarcely subsistence for one, much less for five human 
beings could be found. He was tormented, moreover, by 
dread of seizure, for he well knew that since his disappearance 
the forest had been daily ransacked by armed pursuers. Yet, 
driven by extreme privation, he was compelled to brave discov- 
ery in search of a precarious provision of wild fruits and 
game. On one of these excursions, as was said, he had been 
surprised by Audubon. After thus relating to him their secret, 
both, with tears in their eyes, implored his exertions on behalf 
of them and their children, who, sweetly slumbering, appealed 
by their helplessness and innocence for protection. 

Most cordially Audubon promised them all the assistance 
in his power. On the follovying day, accompanied by the 
runaway and his family, he departed, leaving the ibises hung 
around the walls of the hut, and many a notch in the trees as a 
memento of his presence. They then bent their way towards 
the dwelling of the negro's first master. On arriving there, 
they were received with the most generous kindness. At the 
request of Audubon, according to the desire of the fugitives, 
they were repurchased from their late masters, and admitted 
again into the benevolent family, where they were regarded 
as a part of it, and gratefully remembered the good fortune 
which had brought Audubon to them as a guest. 

AUDUBON AND THE EAGLE 

In 1833 Audubon came into possession of a splendid speci- 
men of the golden eagle. He relates this interesting story con- 
cerninsr it : 



36 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"I placed the cage so as to afford me a good view of the 
captive, and I must acknowledge that as I watched his looks 
of proud disdain, I did not feel towards him so generously as 
I ought to have done. At times, I was half inclined to restore 
him his freedom, that he might return to his native mountains ; 
nay, I several times thought how pleasant it would be to see 
him spread out his broad wings, and sail towards the rocks of 
his wild haunts ; but then, someone seemed to whisper that I 
ought to take a portrait of this magnificent bird, and therefore 
I abandoned the more generous design of setting him at 
liberty. 

"I occupied myself a whole day in watching his movements ; 
on the next I came to a determination as to the position in 
which I might best represent him ; and on the third, thought of 
how I could take away his life with the least pain to him. 

"I consulted several persons on the subject, and among 
others, my most worthy and generous friend, Dr. George Park- 
man, who kindly visited my family every day. He spoke of 
suffocating him by means of burning charcoal, of killing him 
by electricity, etc., and we both concluded that the first method 
would be, probably, the easiest for ourselves, and the least pain- 
ful to him. Accordingly the bird was removed in his prison to 
a very small room and closely covered with blankets — a pan 
of lighted charcoal was introduced, the windows and doors 
fastened, and the blankets tucked in beneath the cage. I 
waited, expecting every moment to hear him fall down from 
his perch ; but after listening for hours, I opened the door, 
raised the blankets, and peeped under them amidst a mass of 
suffocating fumes. There stood the eagle on his perch, with 
his bright, unflinching eye turned towards me, and as lively 
and vigorous as ever ! Instantly reclosing every aperture, 
I resumed my station at the door, and towards midnight, 
not having heard the least noise, I again took a peep at 
my victim. 



John James Audubon 37 

He was still uninjured, although the air of the closet was 
insupportable to my son and myself, and that of the adjoining 
apartment began to feel unpleasant. I persevered, however, 
for ten hours in all, when, finding that the charcoal fumes 
would not produce the desired effect, I retired to rest, wearied 
and disappointed. Early next morning, I tried the charcoal 
anew, adding to it a quantity of sulphur, but we were nearly 
driven from our house in a few hours by the stifling vapors, 
while the noble bird continued to stand erect, and look defiance 
at us whenever we approached his post of martyrdom. His 
fierce demeanor precluded all internal application, and at last 
I was compelled to resort to a method, always used as a last 
expedient, and a most efifectual one. I thrust a long, pointed 
piece of steel through his heart, when my proud prisoner in- 
stantly fell dead, without even ruffling a feather. 

"I sat up nearly the whole of another night to outline him, 
and worked so constantly at the drawing, that it nearly cost 
me mv life. I was suddenly seized with a spasmodic afifection, 
that much alarmed my family, and completely prostrated me 
for some days." 

THE TURTLER'S STORY 

During one of Audubon's most interesting tours as a 
naturalist among the Everglades of Florida, he spent much 
time with a very interesting man who was a turtler, and 
made his living by searching for turtles and their eggs. This 
man related to the naturalist this extraordinarily interesting 
adventure : 

"In the calm of a fine moonlight night as I was admiring 
the beauty of the heavens, and the broad glare of light that 
flamed from the trembling surface of the water around, I 
chanced to be paddling along a sandy shore which I thought 
well fitted for my repose, being covered with tall grass, and 
as the sun was not many degrees above the horizon, I felt 



38 Capital, Stories About Famous Americans 

anxious to pitch my mosquito bar or net, and spend the night 
in the wilderness. The bellowing notes of thousands of bull- 
frogs in a neighboring swamp might lull me to rest, and I 
looked upon the flocks of blackbirds that were assembling, as 
«ure companions in this secluded retreat. I proceded up a little 
stream to insure the safety of my canoe from any sudden storm, 
when, as I gladly advanced, a beautiful yawl came unexpectedly 
in view. Surprised at such a sight in a part of the country then 
scarcely known, I felt a sudden check in the circulation of my 
tlood. My paddle dropped from my hands, and fearfully 
indeed, as I picked it up, did I look towards the unknown boat. 
On reaching it, I saw its sides marked with stains of blood, and 
looking with anxiety over the gunwale, I perceived to my 
horror two human bodies covered with gore. Pirates or hos- 
tile Indians I was persuaded had perpetrated the foul deed, 
and my alarm naturally increased ; my heart fluttered, stopped, 
and heaved with unusual tremors, and I looked towards the 
setting sun in consternation and despair. 

"How long my reveries lasted I cannot tell ; I can only 
recollect that I was roused from them by the distant groans of 
one apparently in mortal agony. I felt as if refreshed by the 
cold perspiration that oozed from every pore, and I reflected 
that though alone, I was well armed, and might hope for the 
protection of the Almighty ! Humanity whispered to me that, 
if not surprised and disabled, I might render assistance to 
some suflferer, or even be the means of saving a useful life. 
Buoyed up by this thought I urged my canoe on shore, and 
seizing it by the bow pulled it at one spring high among the 
grass. The groans of the unfortunate persons fell heavy on 
my ear, as I cocked and reprimed my gun, determined to shoot 
the first who should rise from the grass. As I cautiously 
proceeded, a hand was raised over the reeds, and waved in a 
most supplicatory manner. I leveled my gun about a foot 
below it, when the next moment the head and breast of a man 



John James Audubon 39 

were convulsively raised, and a faint, hoarse voice asked of me 
mercy and help ! A death-like silence followed his fall to the 
ground, I surveyed every object around, with eyes intent, and 
ears impressible by the slightest sound, for my situation at 
that moment I thought as critical as any I had ever been in. 
The croaking of the frogs, and the last blackbirds alighting 
on their roosts were the only sounds or sights. I now pro- 
ceeded towards the object of my mingled alarm and conster- 
nation. Alas ! the poor being who lay prostrate at my feet 
was so weakened by loss by blood that I had nothing to fear 
from him. 

"My first impulse was to run back to the water, and having 
done so, I returned with my cap filled to the brim. I felt at 
his heart, washed his face and breast, and rubbed his temples 
with the contents of a phial which I kept about me as an anti- 
dote for bites of snakes. His features, seamed by the ravages, 
of time, looked frightful and disgusting; but he had been a 
powerful man, as his broad chest plainly showed. He groaned 
in the most appalling manner as his breath struggled through 
the mass of blood that seemed to fill his throat. His dress 
plainly disclosed his occupation : a large pistol he had thrust 
in his bosom, a naked cutlass lay near him on the ground, a 
red silk hankerchief was bound over his projecting brows, 
and over a pair of loose trousers he wore fisherman's boots. 
He was, in short, a pirate. My exertions were not in vain, for 
as I continued to bathe his temples he revived, his pulse re- 
gained some strength, and I began to hope he might survive 
the deep wound he had received. Darkness, deep darkness 
now enveloped us. I spoke of making a fire. "Ah ! for 
mercy's sake," he exclaimed, "don't." Knowing that under 
existing circumstances it was expedient for me to do so, I left 
him, went to his boat, and brought the rudder, the benches, 
and the oars, which, with my hatchet, I soon splintered. I 
then struck a light and presently stood in the glare of a blazing 



40 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

fire. The pirate seemed struggling between terror and grati- 
tude for my assistance; he desired me several times to put out 
the flames, but after a draught of strong spirits became more 
composed. I tried to staunch the blood that flowed from the 
deep gashes in his shoulders and side. I expressed my regret 
that I had no food about me, but when I spoke of eating he 
sullenly moved his head. 

"My situation was one of the most extraordinary I had ever 
been placed it. I naturally turned my talk towards religious 
subjects, but, alas, the dying man hardly believed in the exist- 
ence of a God. 'Friend,' said he, 'for friend you seem to be; 
I never studied the ways of Him of whom you talk. I am an 
outlaw, perhaps you will say a wretch — I have been for many 
years a pirate. The instructions of my parents were of no 
avail to me, for I always believed I was born to be a most cruel 
man, I now lie here about to die amidst these woods, because, 
long ago, I refused to listen to their many admonitions. Do 
not shudder when I tell you these now useless hands murdered 
the mother whom they had embraced. I feel I have deserved 
the pangs of the wretched death that hovers over me, and I am 
thankful that only one of my kind will witness my last 
gaspings.' 

"A feeble hope that I might save his life, and perhaps 
assist in procuring his pardon, induced me to speak to him on 
the subject. 'It is all in vain, friend — I have no objection to 
die — I am glad that the villains who wounded me were not 
my conquerors. I want no pardon from anyone — give me 
some water, and let me die alone.' 

"With the hope that I might learn from his conversation 
something that might lead to the capture of his guilty asso- 
ciates ; I returned from the creek with another capful of water, 
nearly the whole of which I managed to introduce into his 
parched mouth, and begged him for the sake of his future 
peace, to disclose his history to me. 'It is impossible,' said he, 



John James Audubon 41 

'there will be no time, the beatings of my heart tell me so. 
Long before day these sinewy limbs will be motionless. Nay, 
there will hardly be a drop of blood in my body. Tvly wounds 
are mortal, and I must and will die without what you call 
confession.' 

"The moon rose in the East. The majesty of her placid 
beauty impressed me with reverence. I pointed towards her, 
and asked the pirate if he could not recognize the hand of God 
there. 

" 'Friend, I see what you are driving at,' was his answer, 
'you, like the rest of our enemies, feel the desire of murdering 
us all. Well — be it so — to die is, after all, nothing more than 
a jest, and were it not for the pain, no one, in my opinion, 
need care a jot abotit it. But as you have really befriended 
me I will tell you all that is proper.' 

"Hoping his mind might take a useful turn, I again bathed 
his temples, and washed his lips with spirits. His sunken 
eyes seemed to dart fire at mine — a heavy and deep sigh swelled 
his chest and struggled through his blood-choked throat, as 
he asked me to raise him a little. I did so, when he addressed 
me as follows : 

" 'First tell me how many bodies you found in the boat, 
and what sort of dresses they had on.' I mentioned their 
number and described their apparel. 'That's right,' said he, 
they are the bodies of the scoundrels who followed me in that 
infernal Yankee barge. Bold rascals they were. For when 
they found the water too shallow for their craft, they took to 
it and waded after me. All my companions had been shot, 
and to lighten my own boat I flung them overboard ; but as I 
lost time in this, the two ruffians caught hold of my gunwale, 
and struck on my head and body in such a way that T was 
scarcely able to move The other villain carried ofif our 
schooner and one of our boats, and perhaps ere now have hung 
all my companions whom they did not kill at the time. I 



42 Capital Storie;s About Famous Americans 

always hated the Yankees, and only regret that I did not kill 
more of them. I sailed from Matanzas — I have often been 
in concert with others. I have money without counting, but 
it is buried where it will never be found, and it would be use- 
less to tell you of it.' His throat filled with blood, his voice 
failed, the cold hand of death was on his brow, feebly and 
hurriedly he muttered, 'I am a dying man, farewell!' 

''Alas! it is painful to me, death in any shape; in this it 
was horrible, for there was no hope. The rattling in his 
throat announced the moment of his dissolution, and already 
did the body fall on my arms with a weight which was in- 
supportable. I laid him on the ground. A mass of dark blood 
poured from his mouth. Then came a frightful groan, the 
last breathing of that foul spirit, and all that now lay at my 
feet in that wild desert was a mangled mass of clay ! 

"The remainder of that night was passed in no enviable 
mood, but my feelings cannot be described. At dawn I dug a 
hole with the paddle of my canoe, rolled the body into it, and 
-covered it. On reaching the boat, I found several buzzards 
feeding on the bodies, which I in vain attempted to drag to 
the shore. I therefore covered them with mud and reeds, and 
launching my canoe, paddled from the cove with a secret joy at 
my escape, shadowed with the gloom of a mingled dread and 
abhorrence." 

IRVING BACHELLER 

A LAME EXCUSE 

AFTER finishing Vcrgilius last summer, Irving Bacheller 
-^~^ went down to a certain little rural village in Pennsyl- 
vania to rest. His doctor had recommended horseback riding, 
and finding it difficult to hire a suitable mount, he finally bought 
a horse from an elderly man who wore the regulation long 
drab coat and broad-brimmed hat of the old-fashioned Quaker. 



Phineas T. Barnum 43 

It was a likely-looking nag, and Bacheller felt much pleased 
over the transaction. Mounting, he rode off, but before he 
had gone a mile the animal developed a decided case of lame- 
ness Bacheller turned back, and shortly he met the Quaker 
plodding along the road. The rider drew up and started to 
speak, when the man held up both hands and said : 

"No, no; thee must not ask me to take back the horse." 
*'Oh, I wasn't going to," returned Bacheller softly. "All 
that I want is that you lend me your hat and coat till I can sell 
him to some one else." 

JOHN KENDRICK BANGS 

HIS SOURCE OF SUPPLY 

JOHN KENDRICK BANGS, the humorist, is the father of 
J a Hvely boy who may yet follow in the footsteps of his 
parent. Not long ago Mr. Bangs wrote some paragraphs for 
a certain weekly, two or three of which were based more or 
less on sayings of this son, much to the hopeful's delight. 
The result was that he developed a very favorable opinion 
of his own importance to his father's literary labors. A 
neighbor calling one day about this time found the youngster 
swinging on the front gate. 

"Hallo," said the visitor; "is your father at home?" 

"Yes," answered the boy. 

"Where is he?" 

"In the library, writing down the funny things I say." 

PHINEAS T. BARNUM 

^T^"^HIS collection of interesting stories of one of the most 
-*- unique personalities America has produced is taken from 
Mr. Barnum's own Recollections. His vigorous style of doing 
things is well exemplified in the narratives selected. 



44 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

RIGID ECONOMY 

Barniim tells an interesting- story of the time when he had 
bought a great museum on credit, and was saving money to 
pay for it. He says : 

"At the very outset, I was determined to deserve success. 
My plan of economy included the intention to support my 
family in New York on $600 a year, and my treasure of a 
wife not only gladly assented, but was willing to reduce the 
sum to $400, if necessary. Some six months after I had 
bought the museum, Mr. Olmsted happened in at my ticket- 
office at noon, and found me eating a frugal dinner of cold 
corned beef and bread, which I had brought from home. 

" *Is this the way you eat your dinner?' he asked. 

" 'I have not eaten a warm dinner, except on Sunday,' I re- 
plied, 'since I bought the museum, and never intend to, on a 
week day, till I am out of debt.' 

" 'Ah !' said he, clapping me on the shoulder, '3-ou are safe, 
and will pay for the museum before the year is out.' 

"And he was right, for within twelve months I was in full 
possession of the property as my own, and it was entirely paid 
for from the profits of the business." 

A SUCCESSFUL ADVERTISER 

Speaking of advertising methods, Air. Barnuni says : 
"I thoroughly understand the art of advertising, not merely 
by means of printers' ink, which I have always used freely, 
and to which I confess myself so much indebted for my suc- 
cess, but my turning every possible circumstance to my ac- 
count. It was my monomania to make the museum a town 
wonder, and town talk. I often seized upon an opportunity 
by instinct, even before I had a very definite conception as to 
how it should be used, and it seemed, somehow, to mature 
itself and serve my purpose. As an illustration, one morning 
a stout, hearty-looking man, came into my ticket-office, and 



Phineas T. Barnum 45 

begged some money. I asked why he did not work and earn 
his living? He repHed that he could get nothing to do, and 
that he would be glad of any job at a dollar a day. I handed 
him a quarter of a dollar, told him to go and get his breakfast, 
and return, and I would employ him at light labor at a dollar 
and a half a day. Wlien he returned, I gave him five common 
bricks. 

" 'Now,' said I 'go and lay a brick on the sidewalk at the 
corner of Broadway and Ann Street ; another close by the 
Museum ; a third diagonally across the way at the corner of 
Broadway and Vesey Street, by the Astor House; put down 
the fourth on the sidewalk in front of St Paul's Church, oppo- 
site ; then, with the fifth brick in hand, take up a rapid march 
from one point to the other, making the circuit, exchanging 
your brick at every point, and say nothing to anyone.' 

" 'What is the object of this?' inquired the man. 

"'No matter,' I replied; 'all you need to know is that it 
brings you fifteen cents wages per hour. It is a bit of my fun, 
and to assist me properly you must seem to be as deaf as a 
post ; wear a serious countenance ; answer no questions ; pay 
no attention to anyone ; but attend faithfully to the work, and 
at the end of every hour by St. Paul's clock show this ticket 
at the Museum door ; enter, walking solemnly through every 
hall in the building; pass out, and resume your work.' 

"With the remark that it was 'all one to him, so long as 
he could earn his living,' the man placed his bricks and 
began his round. Half an hour afterwards, at least five hun- 
dred people were watching his mysterious movements. He 
had assumed a military step and bearing, and looking as sober 
as a judge, he made no response whatever to the constant in- 
quiries as to the object of his singular conduct. At the end of 
the first hour, the sidewalks in the vicinity were packed with 
people all anxious to solve the mystery. The man, as directed, 
then went into the Museum, devoting fifteen minutes to a 



46 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

solemn survey of the halls, and afterwards returning to his 
round. This was repeated every hour till sundown, and when- 
ever the man went into the Museum a dozen or more persons 
would buy tickets and follow him, hoping to gratify their curi- 
osity in regard to the purpose of his movements. This was 
continued for several days — the curious people who followed 
the man into the Museum considerably more than paying his 
wages — till finally the policeman, to whom I had imparted my 
object, complained that the obstruction of the sidewalk by 
crowds had become so serious that I must call in my 'brick 
man.' This trivial incident excited considerable talk and 
amusement ; it advertised me ; and it materially advanced my 
purpose of making a lively corner near the Museum." 

HOW HE GOT THE BEST OF CLARK 

Barnum recounts a pasage at arms with a noted editor of 
his day. "On one occasion, Mr. Louis Gaylord Clark, the 
editor of the Knickerbocker, came to view my Museum, and 
introduced himself to me. As I was quite anxious that my 
establishment should receive a first-rate notice at his hands, 
I took pains to show him everything of interest, except the 
Niagara Falls, which I feared would prejudice him against 
my entire show. But as we passed the room, the pump was 
at work warning me that the great cataract was in full opera- 
tion, and Clark, to my dismay, insisted upon seeing it. 

" 'Well, Barnum, I declare, this is quite a new idea ; I never 
saw the like before.' 

"'No?' I faintly inquired, with something like reviving 
hope. 

" 'No,' said Clark, 'and I hope, with all my heart, I never 
shall again.' 

"But the Knickerbocker spoke kindly of me, and refrained 
from all allusions to 'the cataract of Niagara with real water.' 
Some months after, Clark came in breathless one day and asked 



Phineas T. Barnum 47 

me if I had the ckib with which Captain Cook was killed? As 
I had a lot of Indian war clubs in the collection of Aboriginal 
Curiosities, and owing Clark something on the Old Niagara 
Falls account, I told him that I had the veritable club, with 
documents which placed its identity beyond question, and I 
showed him the warlike weapon. 

" Toor Cook ! Poor Cook !' said Clark, musingly. 'Well, 
Mr. Barnum,' he continued, with great gravity, at the same 
time extending his hand and giving mine a hearty shake, 'I am 
really very much obliged to you for your kindness. I had an 
irrepressible desire to see the club that killed Captain Cook, 
and I felt quite confident you would accommodate me. I have 
been in half a dozen smaller museums, and as they all had it, 
I was sure a large establishment like yours would not be with- 
out it.' 

"A few weeks afterwards, I wrote to Clark that if he would 
come to my office I was anxious to consult him on a matter of 
great importance. He came, and I said : 

" 'Now, I don't want any of your nonsense, but I want 
your sober advice.' 

"He assured me that he would serve me in any way in 
his power, and I proceeded to tell him about a wonderful fish 
from the Nile, offered to me for exhibition at $100 a week, the 
owner of which was willing to forfeit $5,000, if, within six 
weeks, this fish did not pass through a transformation, in 
which the tail would disapppear and the fish would then have 
legs. 

"'Is it possible!' asked the astonished Clark. 

"I assured him that there was no doubt of it. 

"Thereupon he advised me to engage the wonder at any 
price ; that it would startle the naturalists, wake up the whole 
scientific world, draw in the masses, and make $20,000 for the 
Museum. I told him that I thought well of the speculation, 
onlv I did not like the name of the fish. 



48 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

" 'That makes no difference whatever,' said Clark ; Svliat 
is the name of the fish ?' 

" 'Tadpole/ I replied with becoming gravity, 'but it is vul- 
garity called 'pollywog.' " 

"'Sold, by thunder!' exclaimed Clark, and he left." 

THE FAMOUS DOCTOR VALENTINE 

"Dr. Valentine will be remembered by man}' as the man 
who gave imitations and delineations of eccentric characters. 
He was quite a card at the Museum when I first purchased that 
establishment, and before I introduced dramatic representa- 
tions into the 'Lecture Room.' His representations were 
usually given as follows: A small table was placed in about 
the centre of the stage ; a curtain reaching to the floor covered 
the front and two ends of the table ; under this table, on little 
shelves and hooks, were placed caps, hats, coats, wigs, mous- 
taches, curls, cravats, and shirt collars, and all sorts of gear 
for changing the appearance of the upper portion of the per- 
son. Dr. Valentine would seat himself in a chair behind the 
table, and addressing his audience, would state his intention 
to represent different peculiar characters, male and female, 
including the Yankee tin peddler; 'Tabitha Twist,' a maiden 
lady; 'Sam Slick, Jr.,' the precocious author; 'Solomon 
Jenkins,' a crusty old bachelor, with a song; the down-east 
school-teacher with his refractory pupils, with many other 
characters ; and he simply asked the indulgence of the audience 
for a few seconds between each imitation, to enable him to 
stoop down behind the table and 'dress' each character ap- 
propriately. 

"The Doctor himself was a most eccentric character. He 
was very nervous, and was always fretting lest his audience 
should be composed of persons who would not appreciate his 
'imitations.' During one of his engagements the Lecture 
Room performances consisted of negro minstrelsy and Dr. 



Phineas T. Barnum 49 

Valentine's imitations. As the minstrels gave the entire first 
half of the entertainment, the Doctor would post himself at 
the entrance to the Museum to study the character of the 
visitors from their appearance. He fancied that he was a great 
reader of character in this way, and as most of my visitors 
were from the country, the Doctor, after closely perusing their 
faces, would decide that they were not the kind of persons who 
would appreciate his efforts, and this made extremely nervous. 
When this idea was once in his head, it took complete posses- 
sion of the poor Doctor, and worked him up into a nervous 
excitement which it was often painful to behold. Every 
country-looking face was a dagger to the Doctor, for he had 
a perfect horror of exhibiting to an unappreciative audience. 
When so much excited that he could stand at the door no 
longer, the disgusted Doctor would come into my ofBce and 
pour out his lamentations in this wise : 

" 'There, Barnum, I never saw such a stupid lot of country 
bumpkins in my life. I shan't be able to get a smile out of 
them. I had rather be horsewhipped than attempt to satisfy 
an audience who have not got the brains to appreciate me. 
Sir, mine is a highly intellectual entertainment, and none but 
refined and educated persons can comprehend it.' 

" 'Oh, I think you will make them laugh some. Doctor,' I 
replied. 

" 'Laugh, sir, laugh ! Why, sir, they have no laugh in them, 
sir; and if they had, your devilish nigger minstrels would get 
it all out of them before I commence.' 

" 'Don't get excited, Doctor,' I said, 'you will please the 
people.' 

" 'Impossible, sir! I was a fool to ever permit my enter- 
tainment to be mixed up with that of nigger singers.' 

" 'But you could not give an entire entertainment satisfac- 
torily to the public ; they want more variety.' 

" 'Then you should have got something more refined, sir. 



50 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

Why, one of those idiotic nigger breakdowns excites your 
audience so they don't want to hear a word from me. At all 
events, I ought to commence the entertainment, and let the nig- 
gers finish up. I tell you, Mr. Barnum, I won't stand it! I 
would rather go to the poorhouse. I won't stay here over a 
fortnight longer ! It is killing me !' 

"In this excited state the Doctor would go upon the stage, 
dressed very neatly in a suit of black. Addressing a few pleas- 
ant words to the audience, he would then take a seat behind his 
little table, and with a broad smile covering his countenance, 
he would ask the audience to excuse him a few seconds, and 
he would appear as 'Tabitha Twist,' a literary spinster of 
fifty-five. On these occasions I was usually behind the scenes, 
standing at one of the wings opposite the Doctor's table, where 
I could see and hear all that occurred 'behind the curtain.' 
The moment the Doctor was down behind the table, a wonder- 
ful change came over that smiling countenance. 

" 'Hang this ignorant, stupid audience ! They would not 
laugh to save the city of New York!' said the Doctor, while 
he rapidly slipped on a lady's cap and a pair of long curls. 
Then, while arranging a lace handkerchief around his shoul- 
ders, he would grate his teeth and curse the Museum, its man- 
ager, the audience, and everybody else. The instant the hand- 
kerchief was pinned, the broad smile would come upon his 
face, and up would go his head and shoulders, showing to the 
audience a rollicking specimen of a good-natured old maid. 

" 'How do you do, ladies and gentlemen ? You all know me, 
Tabitha Twist, the happiest maiden in the village; always 
laughing. Now. I'll sing you one of my prettiest songs.' 

"The mock maiden would then sing a lively, funny ditty, 
followed by a faint applause, and down would bob the head 
behind the table to prepare for a presentation of 'Sam 
Slick, Jr.' 

" 'Hang such a set of fools' (off goes the cap, followed by 



Phineas T. Barnum 51 

the curls). 'They think it's a country Sunday School' (tak- 
ing- off his lace handkerchief). 'I expect they will hiss me 
next, the donkeys' (on goes a light wig of long, flowing hair). 
'I wish the old Museum was sunk in the Atlantic' (puts on 
a Yankee round-jacket, and broad-brimmed hat). 'I never 
will be caught in this stupid place again, 'up jump 
head and shoulders of the Yankee, and Slim Slick, Jr. sings 
out a merry 

" 'Ha ! Ha ! Why, folks, how de dew. Darn glad to see 
yew, by hokey ; I came down here to have lots of fun, for you 
know I always believe we must laugh and grow fat.' 

"After five minutes of similar rollicking nonsense, down 
would bob the head again, and the cursing, swearing, tear- 
ing, and teeth-grating would commence, and continue till the 
next character appeared to the audience bedecked with smiles 
and good humor." 

TOM THUMB AT COURT 

Barnum gives many interesting stories of his visits to 
royalty with General Tom Thumb. The following is both in- 
teresting and amusing: 

"On our third visit to Buckingham Palace, Leopold, King 
of the Belgians was also present. He was highly pleased, and 
asked a multitude of questions. Queen Victoria desired the 
General to sing a song, and asked him what song he preferred 
to sing. 

" 'Yankee Doodle,' was the prompt reply. 

"This answer was as unexpected to me as it was to the 
royal party. When the merriment it occasioned somewhat 
subsided, the Queen good-humoredly remarked, 'That is pretty 
song. General. Sing it if you please.' The General complied, 
and soon afterwards we retired. I ought to add, that after 
each of our three visits to Buckingham Palace, a very hand- 
some present was sent to me, of course bv the Queen's com- 



52 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

mand. This, however, was the smallest part of the advantage 
derived from these interviews, as will be at once apparent to 
all who consider the force of Court example in England. 

"The British public were now fairly excited. Not to have 
seen General Tom Thumb was decidedly unfashionable, and 
from March 20th until July 20th, the levees of the little Gen- 
eral at Egyptian Hall were continually crowded, the receipts 
averaging during the whole period about five hundred dollars 
per day, and sometimes going considerably beyond that sum. 
At the fashionable hour, between fifty and sixty carriages of 
the nobility have been counted at one time standing in front of 
our exhibition rooms in Piccadilly. 

"Portraits of the little General were published in all the 
pictorial papers of the time. Polkas and quadrilles were 
named after him, and songs were sung in his praise. He was 
an almost constant theme for the London Punch, which served 
up the General and myself so daintily that it no doubt added 
vastly to our receipts. 

"Besides his three public performances per day, the little 
General attended from three to four private parties per week, 
for which we were paid eight to ten guineas each. Frequently 
we would visit two parties in the same evening, and the de- 
mand in that line was much greater than the supply. The 
Queen Dowager Adelaide requested the General's attendance 
at Marlborough House one afternoon. He went in his court 
dress, consisting of a richly embroidered brown silk-velvet 
coat and short breeches, white satin vest with fancy-colored 
embroidery, white silk stockings and pumps, wig, bag-wig, 
cocked hat, and a dress sword. 

" 'Why, General,' said the Queen Dowager, 'I think you 
look very smart to-day.' 

" 'I guess I do,' said the General complacently. 

" 'A large party of the nobility were present. The old 
Duke of Cambridge offered the little General a pinch of snuff, 



Phineas T. Barnum 53 

which he declined. The General sang his songs, performed 
his dances, and cracked his jokes, to the great amusement and 
delight of the distinguished circle of visitors. 

" 'Dear little General,' said the kind-hearted Queen, taking 
him upon her lap, 'I see you have got no watch. Will you per- 
mit me to present you with a watch and chain?' 

" 'I would like them very much,' replied the General, his 
eyes glistening with joy as he spoke. 

" 'I will have them made expressly for you,' responded the 
Queen Dowager; and at the same moment she called a friend 
and desired him to see that the proper order was executed. A 
few weeks thereafter we were called again to Marlborough 
House. A number of the children of the nobility were present, 
as well as some of their parents. After passing a few compli- 
ments with the General, Queen Adelaide presented him with 
a beautiful little gold watch, placing the chain around his 
neck with her own hands. The little fellow was delighted, 
and scarcely knew how sufficiently to express his thanks. The 
good Queen gave him some excellent advice in regard to his 
morals, which he strictly promised to obey. 

"After giving his performances, we withdrew from the 
royal presence, and the elegant little watch presented by the 
hands of Her Majesty the Queen Dowager was not only duly 
heralded, but was also placed upon a pedestal in the hall of 
exhibition, together with the presents from Queen Victoria, 
and covered with a glass vase. These presents, to which were 
soon added an elegant gold snuff-box mounted with tur- 
quoise, presented by his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, and 
many other costly gifts of the nobility and gentry, added 
greatly to the attractions of the exhibitions. The Duke of 
Wellington called frequently to see the little General at his 
public levees. The first time he called, the General was per- 
sonating Napoleon Bonaparte, marching up and down the plat- 
form, apparently taking snuff in deep meditation. He was 



54 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

dressed in the well-known uniform of the Emperor. I intro- 
duced him to the 'Iron Duke,' who inquired the subject of 
his mediations. 'I w^as thinking of the loss of the battle of 
Waterloo,' was the little General's immediate reply. This 
display of wit was chronicled throughout the country, and was 
of itself worth thousands of pounds to the exhibition. 

THE GENERAL'S EXTRA TRAIN 

''I remember once making an extraordinary effort to reach 
a branch-line station, where I meant to leave my teams and 
take the rail for Rugby. I had a time-table, and knew at what 
hour exactly I could hit the train ; but unfortunately the axle 
to my carriage broke, and as an hour was lost in repairing it, 
I lost exactly an hour in reaching the station. The train had 
long been gone, and I must be in Rugby, where we had adver- 
tised a performance. I stormed around till I found the super- 
intendent, and told him 'I must instantly have an extra train 
to Rugby.' 

" 'Extra train !' said he, with surprise and a half sneer, 
'extra train ! why you can't have an extra train to Rugby 
for less than sixty pounds.' 

" 'Is that all ?' I asked ; 'well, get up your train immediately 
and here are your sixty pounds. What in the world are sixty 
pounds to me, when I wish to go to Rugby, or elsewhere, in a 
hurry !' 

"The astonished superintendent took the money, hustled 
about, and the train was soon ready. He was greatly puzzled 
to know what distinguished person — he thought he must be 
dealing with some prince, or, at least, a duke — was willing to 
give so much money to save a few hours time, and he hesitat- 
ingly asked whom he had the honor of serving. 

" 'General Tom Thumb.' 

"We reached Rugby in time to give our performance, as 
announced, and our receipts were £i6o, which quite covered 



Phineas T. Barnum 55 

the expense of our extra train and left a handsome margin 
for profit." 

THE WELCOME TO JENNY UND 

Barnum gives this entertaining account of the welcome to 
Jenny Lind on her famous tour of America : 

"A few minutes before twelve o'clock on Sunday morning- 
the Atlantic hovQ in sight, and immediately afterwards, through 
the kindness of my friend Doane, I was on board the ship, and 
had taken Jenny Lind by the hand. 

"After a few moments' conversation, she asked me when 
and where I had heard her sing. 

" 'I never had the pleasure of seeing you before in my life,' 
I replied. 

" 'How is it possible that you dared risk so much money on 
a person whom you never heard sing?' she asked in surprise. 

" 'I risked it on your reputation, which in musical matters 
I would much rather trust than my own judgment,' I replied. 

"I may as well state, that although I relied prominently 
upon Jenny Lind's reputation as a great musical artiste, I also 
took largely into my estimate of her success with all classes of 
the American public, her character for extraordinary benevo- 
lence and generosity. Without this peculiarity in her disposi- 
tion, I never would have dared make the engagement which I 
did, as I felt sure that there were multitudes of individuals in 
America who would be prompted to attend her concerts bv this 
feeling alone. 

"Thousands of persons covered the shipping and piers, and 
other thousands had congregated on the wharf at Canal Street, 
to see her. The wildest enthusiasm prevailed as the steamer 
approached the dock. So great was the rush on a sloop near 
the steamer's berth that one man, in his zeal to obtain a good 
view, accidentally tumbled overboard, amid the shouts of those 
near him. Miss Lind witnessel this incident, and was much 



56 C.\piTAL Stories About Famous Americans 

alarmed. He was, however, soon rescued, after taking to him- 
self a cold duck instead of securing a view of the Nightingale. 
A bower of green trees, decorated with beautiful flags, was 
discovered on the wharf, together with two triumphal arches, 
on one of which was inscribed, 'Welcome, Jenny Lind !' 
The second was surmounted by the American eagle, and bore 
the inscription, 'Welcome to America!' These decorations 
were not produced by magic, and I do not know that I can 
reasonably find fault with those who suspected I had a hand 
in their erection. My private carriage was in waiting, and 
Jenny Lind was escorted to it by Captain West. The rest of 
the musical party entered the carriage, and mounting the box 
at the driver's side, I directed him to the Irving House. I 
took that seat as a legitimate advertisement, and my presence 
on the outside of the carriage aided those who filled the win- 
dows and sidewalks along the whole route, in coming to the 
conclusion that Jenny Lind had arrived. 

"A reference to the journals of that day will show, that 
never before had there been such enthusiasm in the city of 
New York, or indeed in America. Within ten minutes after 
our arrival at the Irving House, not less than twenty thousand 
persons had congregated around the entrance in Broadway, 
nor was the number diminished before nine o'clock In the eve- 
ning. At her request, I dined with her that afternoon, and 
when, according to European custom, she prepared to pledge 
me in a glass of wine, she was somewhat surprised at my say- 
ing, 'Miss Lind, I do not think you can ask any other favor 
on earth which I would not gladly grant ; but I am a teetotaler, 
and must beg to be permitted to drink your health and happi- 
ness in*a glass of cold water.' 

"At twelve o'clock that night she was serenaded by the 
New York Musical Fund Society, numbering, on that occasion, 
two hundred musicians. They were escorted to the Irving 
House by about three hundred firemen, in their red shirts, bear- 



Phineas T. Barnum 57 

ing torches. There was a far greater throng in the streets than 
there was even during the day. The calls for Jenny Lind were 
so vehement that I led her through a window to the balcony. 
The loud cheers from the crowds lasted for several minutes, 
before the serenade was permitted to proceed again." 

A LEGENDARY BARGAIN 

The amusing incident related below occurred during Bar- 
num's tour with Jenny Lind. Mr. Barnum tells the story : 

"The party were on board a Mississippi steamer. The time 
on board the steamer was whiled away in reading, viewing the 
scenery of the Mississippi and other diversions. One day we 
had a pleasant musical festival in the ladies' saloon for the 
gratification of the passengers, at which Jenny volunteered to 
sing without ceremony. It seemed to us she never sang so 
sweetly before. I also did my best to amuse my fellow-passen- 
gers with anecdotes and the exhibition of sundry legerdemain 
tricks, which I had been obliged to learn and use in the South 
years before and under far different circumstances than those 
which attended the performance now. Among other tricks, I 
caused a quarter of a dollar to disappear so mysteriously from 
beneath a card, that the Mulatto barber on board came to the 
conclusion that I was in league with the devil. 

"The next morning I seated myself for the operation of 
shaving, and the colored gentleman ventured to dip into the 
mystery. 'Beg pardon, Mr, Barnum, but I have heard a great 
deal about you, and I saw more than I wanted to see last night. 
Is it true that you have sold yourself to the devil, so that you 
can do what you've a mind to ?' 

" 'Oh, yes,' was my reply, 'that is the bargain betvteen us.' 

" 'How long did you agree for ?' was the question next in 
order. 

" 'Only nine years,' said I. 'I have had three of them 
already. Before the other six are out, I shall find a wav to 



58 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

nonplus the old gentleman, and I told him so to his face.' 
"At this avowal, a larger space of white than usual was seen 
in the darky's eyes, and he inquired, 'Is it by this bargain that 
you get so much money ?' 

" 'Certainly. No matter who has money, nor where he keeps 
it, in his box or till, or anywhere about him, 1 have only to 
speak the words, and it comes.' 

"The shaving was completed in silence, but thought had 
been busy in the barber's mind, and he embraced the speediest 
opportunity to transfer his bag of coin to the iron safe, in 
charge of the clerk. 

"The movement did not escape me, and immediately a joke 
was afoot. I had barely time to make two or three details of 
arrangements with the clerk, and resume my seat in the cabin, 
ere the barber sought a second interview, bent on testing the 
alleged powers of Beelzebub's colleague. 

" 'Beg pardon, Mr. Barnum, but where is my money? Can 
you get it?' 

" 'I do not want your money,' was the quiet answer. 'It 
is safe.' 

" 'Yes, I know it is safe — ha ! ha ! — it is in the iron safe 
in the clerk's office — safe enough from you !' 

"'It is not in the iron safe!' said I. This was said so 
quietly, yet positively, that the colored gentleman ran to the 
office, and inquired if all was safe. 'All right,' said the 
clerk. 'Open, and let me see,' replied the barber. The safe 
was unlocked, and lo ! the money was gone ! 

"In mystified terror the loser applied to me for relief. 'You 
will find the bag in your drawer,' said I, and there it was 
found !* Of course, I had a confederate, but the mystification 
of the mulatto was immense." 

Barnum's Museum was twice burned, and on its famous site 
the New York Herald Building stood for many years, after- 
ward torn down to make way for the St. Paul "sky scraper." 



M 



Henry Ward Beecher 59 

HENRY WARD BEECHER 

HOW HE CAPTURED RICHMOND 

AJOR POND had booked Henry Ward Beecher for a 
lecture in Richmond, Va., for Jan, 23, 1877. Mr. Bond 
tells the story : 

"As we went aboard the sleeper at Baltimore a telegram was 
put into my hands which read as follows : 

'' 'Richmond, Va., Jan. 22 1877. 
" 'To J. B. Pond, Baltimore, Md. 

" 'No use coming. Beecher will not be allowed to speak in 
Richmond. No tickets sold. 'W. T. Powell/ 

"I at once replied: 'Have started. Mr. Beecher will be on 
hand to keep his contract.' I did not mention the incident 
to Mr. Beecher. 

"Just before our arrival in Richmond the following morning 
Mr. Powell came to me on the train and told me that the feel- 
ing against Mr. Beecher was so bitter that it would not do 
for him to attempt to speak ; that not a ticket had been sold, 
and he dared not advertise. 

"Mr. Beecher and I went direct to the Exchange Hotel, and 
as we registered our names I saw at once that there was a 
general disposition, from the hotel clerk down to the negro 
porter and the bell boy, to guy us. 

"We went down to breakfast, and the waiter and head waiter 
who seated us were disgustingly uncivil. Mr. Beecher made 
no remarks. We ate our breakfast, and as we passed out of 
the dining-room into a long hall we met a pretty little golden- 
haired child. Mr. Beecher, in his characteristic manner, 
stopped and began talking to and caressing the child, taking 
some candy from his pocket (he never was without bait for 
children), offered it, and was just getting into the little girl's 
favor when the mother came along and snatched her away, as 
though she were rescuing her from a fierce beast of prey. 



6o Capital. Stories About Famous Americans 

"jMr. Eeecher walked quietly to his room. I left instruc- 
tions at the hotel office that no one was to knock at his door. 
Mr. Powell called and assured me that it would be all Air. 
Beecher's life was worth to attempt to speak in Richmond. I 
told him that I would let him off that night with his contract 
if he would rent me the theatre. He consented, and I at once 
g-ot out some bills and dodgers and advertised Mr. Beecher to 
speak that evening. The Legislature was in session, and passed 
an informal vote that none of them would go near the theatre. 
The Tobacco Board did the same. 

"Evening arrived, and I could get no one to attend the door, 
so I did it myself. Mr. Powell applied for an extra force of 
a dozen police, which was of no account, as they were wholly 
in sympathy with the crowd. 

"The Rev. Dr. Grey, the principal Presbyterian minister, 
and the head of a leading institution of learning in Richmond, 
wrote the chief of police that though he distinctly wished it to 
be understood that he did not indorse or favor Mr. Beecher's 
speaking in Richmond, he sincerely hoped that the threat to 
egg Mr. Beecher would not be carried into effect. As each 
member of the Legislature and the Tobacco Board knew that 
none of the other members would attend the lecture, each em- 
braced the opportunity to go ; and there, to their surprise, 
they all met. It was a crowd of men who made the best of 
the joke they had played upon themselves. They were hilari- 
ous and disrespectful. 

"The time came for me to go after Mr. Beecher. T had no 
door-tender, but the theatre was full of men, and my pockets 
were stuffed with dollars, so I left the door to take care of 
itself. I found him ready. While in the carriage on our way 
from the hotel to the theatre not a word passed between us, 
and during the day neither of us had spoken of the situation. 
When we arrived at the stage door of the theatre the dozen 
policemen were keeping the crowd back. As we alighted 



Henry Ward Beecher 6i 

from the carriage at the door, a general yell went up. We 
met Mr. Powell on the stage. He called me to one side and 
said: 

" 'Don't you introduce Mr. Beecher. The jailer}' is full of 
eggs. You will have trouble.' 

"I stepped into the waiting-room. ]\Ir. Beecher said : 'Go 
ahead ; I am ready.' And together we went out and took seats 
on the stage. 

"As we sat down, the vast crowd of men and the few Tadies 
in the gallery commenced to applaud, and some turbulent char- 
acters gave a regular rebel yell. I rose at last and introduced 
]Mr. Beecher, merely saying that there was no act of my life 
that gave me such pleasure as introducing so great and good a 
man as Henry Ward Beecher. I sat down, and they went at 
it again. We speak of a man's rising to an emergency. He 
stood up there, in his old way, and let them yell until they 
got tired. He was to lecture on Hard Times, and his first 
words were that there was a law of God, a common and 
natural lay, that brains and money controlled the universe. 
He said, 'This law cannot be changed even by the big Vir- 
ginia Legislature, which opens with prayer and closes with a 
benediction.' As the legislators were all there in a body, the 
laugh went around. It was not five minutes before the house 
was clapping. Mr. Beecher talked two hours and a half to 
them, and of all the speeches that I ever heard that was the 
best one. He said, first, he would eulogize Virginia and the 
bravery of the men of the South, and then he would tell them 
just what they did that was wrong. In his peroration he 
eulogized Virginia as a commonwealth ; she who had bred her 
sons for Presidents ; how great she was, etc., etc. ; and got 
them all perfectly wrought up, and then he continued : 'But 
what a change when she came to breeding her sons for the 
market!' Then he would draw the terrible picture of slavery 
and its effects, and they had to sit quietly and take it all. 



62 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

"After the lecture we left the theatre quickly, got into a car- 
riage and went clown to the hotel. When in his room, in a 
large chair in front of a blazing fire, he threw himself back, 
and laughingly said : 

" 'Don't you think we have captured Richmond ?' 

"He had no more than spoken when the door opened and a 
crowd of men came rushing in. My first impression was that 
it was a mob, as it did not seem that there had been time for 
them to come from the theatre ; but I was mistaken. 

"The foremost was a tall man with a slouch hat. (They were 
all in slouch hats.) He said: 

" 'Mr. Beecher, this is our 'Leftenant'-Governor. We have 
come to thank you for that great speech. This is our mem- 
ber for So-and-So, and this is Judge Harris,' and so on, in- 
troducing a score or more of prominent Virginians, who step- 
ped forward and grasped his hand. 

" 'Mr. Beecher, we want you to stay and speak for us to- 
morrow evening. We want our women to hear you,' etc. 

"Mr. Beecher was in his most happy humor. He shook the 
Virginians warmly by the liand. He told them that he was 
announced for Washington the following evening, and his time 
was all booked for the season. They offered to raise $500 if 
he would remain over. The following morning at seven 
o'clock many Virginians were at the station to see him off. 
All the morning papers contained extensive synopses of the 
lecture and favorable notices. 

"After that first appearance ]\Ir. Beecher spoke twice in 
Richmond to the choicest audiences that the old capital could 
turn out. I consider this the greatest lecture I ever knew Mr. 
Beecher to give." 

THE CAPTURE OF MANCHESTER 

IMr. Beecher gives this description of one of the most won- 
derful experiences of his life when he captured a hostile 



Henry Ward Beeciikr 6$ 

audience in Manchester, England, during the Civil War. He 
says : 

"When the day came on which I was to make my first 
speech, I struck out the notes of my speech in the morning; 
and then came up a kind of horror — I don't know whether I 
can do anything with an Enghsh audience — I have never had 
any experience with an EngHsh audience. My American 
ways, which are all well enough with Americans, may utterly 
fail here, and a failure in the cause of my country now and 
here is horrible beyond conception to me ! I think I never 
went through such a struggle of darkness and suffering in all 
my life as I did that afternoon. It was about the going down 
of the sun that God brought me to that state in which I said, 
'Thy will be done. I am willing to be annihilated, I am willing 
to fail if the Lord wants me to.' I gave it all up into the 
liands of God, and rose up in a state of peace and of serenity 
simply unspeakable, and when the coach came to take me down 
to Manchester Hall I felt no disturbance nor dreamed of any- 
thing but success. 

"We reached the hall. The crowd was already beginning 
to be tumultuous, and I recollect thinking to myself as I stood 
there looking at them, 'I will control you ! I came here for 
victory and will have it, by the help of God !' W^ell, I was 
introduced, and I must confess that things that I had done and 
suffered in my own country, according to what the chairman 
who introduced me said, amazed me. The speaker was very 
English on the subject, and I learned that I belonged to an 
heroic band, and all that sort of thing, with abolitionism 
mixed in, and so on. By the way, I think it was there that I 
was introduced as the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher Stowe. But 
as soon as I began to speak the great audience began to show 
its teeth, and I had not gone on fifteen minutes before an un- 
paralleled scene of confusion and interruption occurred. No 
American that has not seen an English mob can form anv 



64 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

conception of one. I have seen all sorts of camp-meetings and 
experienced all kinds of public speaking on the stump ; I have 
seen the most disturbed meetings in New York City, and they 
were all of them as twilight to midnight compared with an 
English hostile audience. For in England the meeting does 
not belong to the parties that call it, but to whoever chooses 
to go, and if they can take it out of your hands it is considered 
fair play. This meeting had a very large multitude of men 
in it who came there for the purpose of destroying the meet- 
ing and carrying it the other way when it came to the vote. 

"I took the measure of the audience and said to myself, 
'About one-fourth of this audience are opposed to me, and 
about one-fourth will be rather in sympathy, and my business 
now is not to appeal to that portion that is opposed to me nor 
to those that are already on my side, but to bring over the 
middle section.' How to do this was a problem. The ques- 
tion was, who could hold out longest. There were five or 
six storm centres, boiling and whirling at the same time ; here 
some one pounding on a group with his umbrella and shouting, 
'Sit down there;' over yonder a row between two or three 
combatants ; somewhere else a group all yelling together at 
the top of their voices. It was like talking to a storm at sea. 
But there were the newspaper reporters just in front, and I 
said to them, 'Now, gentlemen, be kind enough to take down 
what I say. It will be in sections, but I will have it connected 
by-and-bye.' I threw my notes away, and entered on a dis- 
cussion of the value of freedom as opposed to slavery in the 
manufacturing interests, arguing that freedom everywhere in- 
creases a man's necessities, and what he needs he buys, and 
that it was, therefore, to the interest of the manufacturing 
community to stand by the side of labor through the country. 
I never was more self-possessed, and never in a more perfect 
good temper, and I never was more determined that my hearers 
should feel the curb before I got through with them. The 



Henry Ward Beecher 65 

uproar would come in on this side and on that, and they would 
put insulting questions and make all sorts of calls to me, and 
1 would wait until the noise had subsided, and then get in about 
nve minutes of talk. The reporters would get that down, and 
then up would come another noise. Occasionally I would see 
things that amused me, and would laugh outright, and the 
crowd would stop to see what I was laughing at. Then I 
would sail in again with a sentence or two. A good many 
times the crowd threw up questions which I caught at and 
answered back. I may as well put in here one thing that 
amused me hugely. There were baize doors that opened both 
ways into side-alleys, and there was a huge, burly Englishman 
standing right in front of one of those doors and roaring like 
a bull of Bashan ; one of the policemen swung his elbow around 
and hit him in the belly and knocked him through the doorway, 
so that the last part of the bawl was outside in the alleyway ; 
it struck me so ludicrously to think how the fellow must have 
looked when he found himself 'hollerinp;' outside that I could 
not refrain from laughing outright. The audience immedi- 
ately stopped its uproars, wondering what I was laughing at, 
and that gave me another chance and I caught it. So we kept 
on for about an hour and a half before they got so far calmed 
down that I could go on peaceably with my speech. They liked 
the pluck. Englishmen like a man that can stand on his feet 
and give and take ; and so for the last hour I had pretty clear 
sailing. The next morning every great paper in England had 
the whole speech down. I think it was the design of the men 
there to break me dov/n on that first speech, by fair means or 
foul, feeling that if they could do that it would be trumpeted 
all over the land. I said to them then and there, 'Gentlemen, 
you may break me down now, but I have registered a vow that 
I will never return home until I have been heard in every 
county and principal town in the Kingdom of Great Britain, 
I am not going to be broken down nor put down. I am going 



66 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

to be heard, and my country shall be vindicated.' Nobody 
knows better than I did what it is to feel that every interest 
that touches the heart of a Christian man and a patriotic man 
and a lover of liberty is being assailed wantonly, to stand be- 
tween one nation and your own, and to feel that you are in a 
situation in which your country rises or falls with you. And 
God was behind it all ; I felt it, and I knew it, and when I got 
through and the vote was called off you would have thought 
it was a tropical thunderstorm that swept through that hall 
as the ayes w^ere thundered, while the noes were an insignifi- 
cant and contemptible minority. It had all gone on our side, 
and such enthusiasm I never saw. I think it was there that 
when I started to go down into the rooms below to get an exit, 
that a big, burly Englishman in the gallery wanted to shake 
hands with me, and I could not reach him, and he called out, 
'Shake my umbrella!' and he reached it over; I shook it, and 
as I did so, he shouted, 'By jock! nobody shall touch that 



umbrella again. 



J » 



HENRY BERGH 

AS DON QUIXOTE 

'"pHIS collection of stories concerning Henry Bergh, the 
-*- famous protector of animals from cruelty, was pub- 
lished some years since in McChircs Magazine by Clara Mor- 
ris. She gives an amusing account of her first meeting with 
Mr. Bergh: 

One day when I had been so long married that not more 
than two or three repetitions of my last name were required to 
attract my surprised attention, my Cockney parlor-maid, whose 
face flushed and whose tongue thickened curiously every after- 
noon, brought to me a card that startled m.e into reading aloud 
the name of "Mr. Henry Bergh." 

" 'Eavens !" cried the flushed Abigail. "I 'ope our 'Enery 




DANIEL WEBSTER 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 
JOHN JAMES AUDUBON 



PATRICK HENRY 
JOHN PAUL JONES 

AARON BURR 



I 



He;nry Bdrgh 69 

hasn't done nothink to the 'osses ! But 'e's an' 'ard man, 's 
our 'Enery, ma'am." And with a manner flatly contradicting 
her expressed hope dehghtedly anticipating an immediate ar- 
rest, she proceeded to "show the gentleman up." 

Advancing to greet my caller, I stopped short. I held the 
card of Henry Bergh, but I saw the tall, gaunt form, the grave 
dignity of bearing, the hollow cheeks, the austere mouth, the 
piled-up brow — full two stories high — and the gentle eyes, 
sad to melancholy, of Cervante's Don Quixote ! I heard my 
own voice say low, "An incarnation." 

He paused in his grave obeisance, sensitive as mirror to a 
breath, and said, inquiringly, "I remind you of some one, 
then ?" 

And, my jesting devil being ever at my elbow, I swiftly an- 
swered, "Yes, you remind me of a friend, dear and valued, a 
certain country gentleman from la Mancha." 

At first he listened blankly, but at the word la Mancha 
pained recognition sprang into his eyes, and a slow, dull color 
crept into the hollow of his cheeks. Terrified by what I had 
done, I rushed on : "But you are a Don Quixote whose cour- 
age and enthusiasm are not wasted upon windmills. You have 
the happiness of really defending the oppressed and avenging 
the cruelly wronged, instead of only dreaming of it." And, 
absolute sincerity being easily recognized, he took my offered 
hand, and we were at peace. 

"Ah," he said, "you take a kinder and more gracious view 
of my resemblance to the absurd old Don than do the carica- 
turists of our papers." 

And I laughed back: "My good sir, do you really imagine 
the millennium has begun, that you expect a jest without 
malice, sarcasm without venom, the light, swift stroke of a 
keen rapier from the fist that only knows how to wield a 
bludgeon ?" 

From the last word he shrank uncomfortably, saying: "He 



70 Cai'itai. Stories About Famous Americans 

wished the 'bludgeon' of the caricaturist were the only one 
in active use in the city;" but when he gravely and carefully 
explained to me that "he was not a millennialist, could not, in 
fact, comprehend that peculiar form of belief," I understood 
that a sense of the ludicrous would never endanger his life 
through excessive laughter. 

I was a hero-worshiper from away back, and to my mind 
this man, who was making such a fine fight for the helpless, 
was a hero. Therefore I was filled with a sort of reverent 
curiosity, and both eyes and ears were set wide open for the 
catching of any scrap of information anent the "why" and 
"how" of that fight; and behold, the first item I obtained was, 
that Mr. Bergh would talk of almost anything under heaven 
— admitting a strong preference for the theatre — save and ex- 
cept Mr. Bergh. 

That being the case, I carefully hoarded every casual re- 
mark, every stately compliment, every critical comment, every 
small confidence, every expressed hope of his, while my eager 
eyes were photographing features, poses, gestures, expressions, 
even half expressions. And now adding to these memories 
two or three anecdotes from one who knew and loved him 
well, I have my sole material for building up that trusted, 
honored, ridiculed, hated, and abused bundle of contradictions 
known as Henry Bergh. 

To begin with, he was by birth and breeding a gentleman, 
and that rare creature, an exceptionally tall man who, calmly 
unconscious of his height, moves with natural ease. A well- 
dressed man, too, showing a quiet, unostentatious taste in 
color and ornament, but such careful attention to good fitting 
and the small details of costume as made him seem especially 
well dressed. In his manner of grave and gentle dignity he 
could not have been excelled by any Spanish Don — the most 
courtly of men. His voice was gentle and low; his face, 
Quixote's face, long, pale, often immovable as a graven 



Henry Bergh 71 

image, the piled-up brow crossed by a sort of dividing line ; his 
eyes light, clear, blue, and sad, while his brows had a trick of 
slowly lifting, now and then, that gave an expressible weari- 
ness to the face. Refined, intellectual, and cold, that was what 
he looked; and to myself I said, how deceptive must be the 
human face, for we are apt to associate self-sacrifice, generous 
devotion to another's welfare, with a certain warmth of heart, 
even of manner and expression, just as we associate a round, 
smiling face with good-humor, and more or less unconsciously 
we are given to the habit of judging others by ourselves. 

HOW BERGH GOT THE MONEY TO START THE SOCIETY FOR 
THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS 

In a hospital in New York City a man lay near to death — 
a Frenchman he was, whose business had been for many years 
that of a trapper and fur trader. Living among and dealing 
with the Indians, he had seen such cruelties practiced upon 
animals that memory was a horror to him. Either he had no 
family, or he had drifted away from it, for he was quite alone 
in his keen watch of approaching death. 

To lighten the heavy hours he looked at the pictures in 
magazine or paper, and noting the many so-called "comics" 
that Mr. Bergh was both subject and object of, he remarked 
one day to an attendant that "a white man with a pencil could 
be meaner than an Indian with a tomhawk," which led the 
attendant to speak of Mr. Bergh and his crusade at length to 
his interested listener, closing with a sigh and the remark 
that rumor said his work was greatly hampered by lack of 
funds. 

A night of thought, and then a note went forth from the 
hospital asking if Mr. Bergh would call upon a patient there, 
by name M. Bonnard. Surprised, but ever courteous, he 
went. The sick man described the horrors he had seen, and 
then expressed his joy that some one had risen up to show the 



'J2 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

world that animals had some rights that demanded recognition 
and respect. 

"You are cool and wise and determined. You will go far !" 
he cried. 

And Mr. Bergh quite frankly answered "he could not go 
much farther without help." 

"But," excitedly replied the trader, "I shall help you! I 
have not chased the dollar all these years without catching 
him — now and then. Mon ami, I am a lonely man. What is 
mine, is mine alone, to do with as I please, and raise outcry 
from no one. Only promise me that if you ever have the 
power to reach so far, you will extend your protection to the 
tormented wild things of the forest and plain, and what I have 
shall be at your service." And Mr. Bergh, thinking of some 
modest little sum from this lonely hospital patient, thanked 
him cordially, more for his words of appreciation and encour- 
agement than for the possibly future gift, which would proba- 
bly come too late to be of much service to the Society, and 
went his worried, anxious way. 

A few days passed, then, dazed and dazzled, he sat staring 
at a scrap of paper that held the trader's gift to him. M, Bon- 
nard was dead, but he had kept his word, and had helped the 
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals to the extent 
of nearly $115,000, or every cent he owned — a noble gift to a 
noble cause, with a touch of poetic justice about it, for from 
animals it came and to animals it returned. 

WHEN THE JOKE WAS ON BERGH 
IVIr, Bcrgh's sense of the ludicrous was conspicuous by its 
absence. If you have to dissect a joke to explain it, it is apt 
to bleed to death in the operation, and dead things are never 
funny. I never saw ]\Ir. Bergh recognize a joke, and he was 
too honest to pretend to see the point he was blind to; but 
after careful search I have found a man who will swear that 



He;nry Bergh 73" 

Mr. Bergh did see a joke once, one directed against himself^ 
and malicious though it was, he laughed right heartily. ^ 

A certain driver working for a wholesale firm in Vesey 
Street, gave much trouble by extravagantly overloading hi;-, 
horse. At last, finding himself so persistently watched, he be- 
gan to behave better, and the espionage was lightened, when 
lo, Mr. Bergh coming down town met this man with a load of 
boxes so high that heads were turning all along the line of 
pedestrians to stare at it. Instantly the long arm was raised 
and the familiar "Stop! You're overloaded!" was heard. 

"Why do you take advantage of my supposed absence to 
pile such a weight as that behind a horse?" asked Mr. Bergh 
sternly. 

"It ain't too much for him !" growled the driver. 

"Not too much?" cried Mr. Bergh. "Why, that load is 
almost two stories high ! Lighten it at once !" And somewhat 
to his surprise, without the usual blasphemous offers to fight 
before yielding, the man turned slowly, the boxes swaying 
dangerously at their giddy height, and, with the following 
crowd, drew up in front of the firm's building. Now, had Mr. 
Bergh been a closely observant man, he would have suspected 
such ready obedience, and would, too, have noted the malicious 
sparkle in the fellow's eye and the pucker of his tobacco- 
stained lips, but he noted nothing save the frightful height of 
the load. So the crowd looking on, hoping for a scrimmage, 
saw the man drop the restraining ropes and remove box after 
box. He paused, but Mr. Bergh, after a critical walk about 
the outfit, motioned him to go on and still further lessen the 
load. With a grin the man obeyed. The sidewalk was nearly 
covered with great cases, when Mr. Bergh called a halt, saying, 
"That will do ; the horse can move that load with safety." 

"He can that," replied the grinning driver. "He can move 
it without strainin' hissel' inside or out, for every box is 
impty !" 



74 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

Every soul in the crowd broke into laughter. As the Irish- 
man climbed to his place, the guardian of animals looked at 
the empty boxes and then at the sturdy horse, saw the joke, 
and joined right heartily in the laugh against himself. 

But he that laughs last laughs best, and the fun was not 
yet over; for ^Ir. Irishman, gathering up his reins, gave his 
cluck and loud "Git-up there !" all in vain. The horse turned 
his head, and giving Mr. Bergh one long, steady look, switched 
his tail, and stood stock still. The refusal to move that trifling 
load was utterly ludicrous, and some one yelled, "Look at the 
horse standin' in wid Bergh!" while another shouted, "Well, 
what kind of a beast would he be if he didn't like to back up 
a friend ?" and amid peals of laughter, Mr. Bergh himself took 
the animal's bridle and gave him a lead to start him, while the 
driver was pelted with hoots and jests till clear out of sight. 

TAKING THE COWS PART 

But it was in a certain incident occurring on Fourth Ave- 
nue and Twenty-second Street one morning, that Mr. Bergh's 
conduct was most like the conduct of the gentle and dignified 
Don from la Mancha, whom he so resembled in face and figure. 
Gloved, caned, perfectly gotten up, wath flowering buttonhole 
and all, he was walking briskly to his office, when from behind 
him he heard such frantic mooing from a cow as told plainly 
of suffering and wild excitement, and now and again the 
weaker sound of the half bleat, half bawl, of a verv vounp- 
calf. ' " 

He stopped, faced about, and saw a thick-set, sturdy man 
who, with the aid of a rope, resounding blows, and many oaths, 
dragged a struggling, protesting cow down the avenue, while, 
hunger-crazed and thirsty, a weak-kneed little calf stumbled 
along trying to keep up with the frantic mother. Nor was the 
cow's misery merely maternal excitement— she was suflfering 
cruelly. She was fevered, overweighted, her bag and udder 



Henry Bergh 75 

so swollen, so distended that the milk dripped and trickled to 
the pavement as she moved, a condition, according to those 
who understand cattle, of excruciating pain. Hence Mr. Bergh 
to the rescue. 

He halted the man and asked "Why he did not allow the 
cow relief?" 

The man glowered stupidly, then sullenly repeated, "Re- 
lafe? Relafe? Relafe from what? I've druv' no finer cow 
thin that these five years !" 

"You know she suffers," went on Mr. Bergh, "and so does 
that calf — it's weak with hunger." 

The sulky drover was all the time keeping the small crea- 
ture away from the tempting milk. "Hungry, is it ?" he 
grunted. "Well, what of it? Sure, it's nothin' but a calf — 
it's no good !" 

"Well, the cow's some good, isn't she?" went on the inter- 
fering gentleman. "Why don't you ease her pain? Just look 
at those dripping udders ! It's shameful. Let the calf go to 
her !" 

But fairly dancing with rage the man refused, crying out 
that that condition would bring him a better bargain in selling 
the animal. Then Mr. Bergh declared officially, "This calf 
is going to — to — " Perhaps he did not know the technical 
term, or perhaps its sound was offensive — at all events, what 
he said was, "This calf is going to breakfast right here and 
now ! Tie the cow to this hydrant ! You won't ? Do you wish, 
then, to be arrested ?" and he showed his badge, and taking at 
the same moment the rope from the ugly, but now stupefied 
man, he himself led the cow to the corner and tied her with 
his own neatly gloved hands; and as the frantic moos had 
brought the neighbors to their windows, there were many 
laughing lookers-on at the unusual picture of an elegant and 
stately gentleman standing guard over a red cow with brass 
buttons on her horns, while her spotted baby calf began the 



'jG Capitai, Stories About Famous Amiericans 

milk-storage business with such reckless haste that the white 
Huid drizzled from either side of its soft, pink mouth, and the 
mother meantime, not to waste the blessed opportunity, hastily 
but tenderly made its toilet. And though to the human eye 
she licked the hairs mostly the wrong way, the two most inter- 
ested seemed to be satisfied with the result. 

And there the tall man stood in patient, dignified waiting, 
while the enraged owner, with a few sympathizing male and 
female compatriots, made the air blue about them — stood, until 
at last baby-bossy let go and faced about, when two long, 
contented sighs, and the calmed glances of two pairs of big 
soft eyes told their protector his work was done and to their 
complete satisfaction. 

NO PERSONAL LOVE FOR ANIMALS 

Then Mr. Bergh, making a second call, came upon me at 
the close of a romp with my two small canine idols. That he 
did not notice their extreme rarity and beauty surprised me 
somewhat ; but when the largest — a three-pounder in weight — 
sprang upon the sofa, and laid a small, inquiring paw upon 
his knee, the man's whole body shrank away, and unmistaka- 
ble repulsion showed in every feature. 

Swiftly recalling that this man was striving earnestly to 
establish drinking places through the city for the heat-tortured 
dogs of the streets, I thought, "Oh, maybe, like many other 
men, he simply dislikes toys." So catching the little beast up 
in my arms, I said, "You don't like him. Is it, then, because 
he is so small ?" 

"No, no," he nervously replied, "it's not that, not its size 
at all, but I— I don't like dogs, Miss Morris !" 

Dumb with amazement, I stared a moment, then grabbed 
the other monster from her cushion, and carrying both to the 
next room, left them there, saying to myself the while, "Riddle 
ine this, and guess him if you can." And let me say right here. 



Albert J. Beveridge '^j 

that one who knew Mr. Bergh years to my days, who saw his 
sacrifices, saw his sufferings born in heroic defense of horses, 
tells me that never in his life did he see Mr. Bergh lay his 
hand upon a horse in caress, however slight — never saw him 
come to closer touch than by the taking hold of a bridle. 

ALBERT J. BEVERIDGE 

UNDER SUSPICION 

TOURING his trip to the Philippines, Albert J. Beveridge, 
^~^ United States Senator from Indiana, stopped at the Jap- 
anese port of Nagasaki. Mr. Beveridge is only thirty-five years 
old, and so youthful-looking that he might easily pass for a col- 
legian of twenty-five. He went ashore at Nagasaki for a few 
hours. Nobody knew him, not even the Americans, as his 
coming had not been heralded. He walked about the town at 
his leisure and then visited the United States Consul. That 
official had been victimized a few weeks before by a young 
American visitor, who claimed to be a son of Senator Boise 
Penrose of Pennsylvania, and borrowed twenty dollars. The 
Consul had just learned that Senator Penrose had no son. 

"Good morning, Consul," exclainied Mr. Beveridge, hand- 
ing out his card. "I am Senator Beveridge of Indiana, and I 
have just dropped in to " 

"Look here, young man !" interrupted the Consul, "I am 
up to your little game, and you can't get a cent here ; do you 
understand ?" 

The Senator, first astonished and then indignant, began to 
protest; but the ludicrous side of the matter appealed to him 
so strongly that he picked up his hat and went away laughing. 

"Ha!" exclaimed the Consul, "they can't fool me more 
than once. I suppose the next thing will be some round-faced 
beggar trying to palm himself off on me as President Mc- 
Kinlev." 



^8 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

At the foot of the stairs, as luck would have it, an American 
officer recognized Mr. Beveridge. When the situation was ex- 
plained, the officer took the Senator back to the Consulate, and 
everything was made right over an elaborate dinner. 

MARY A. BICKERDYKE 

Cliy /rOTHER" BICKERDYKE was pre-eminently the 
■^^ heroine of the Sanitary Commission during the Civil 
War in America. She gave herself body and soul to care for 
the sick and wounded private soldiers. Mrs. Livermore (to 
whom I am indebted for these stories, having selected them 
from a vast wealth of resources recorded in her My Story of 
the IVar), relates the following: 

"To them she was strength and sweetness; and for them 
she exercised sound, practical sense, a ready wit, and a rare 
intelligence, that made her a power in the hospital, or on the 
field. There was no peril she would not dare for a sick and 
wounded man, no official red tape of formality for which she 
cared more than for a common tow-string, if it interfered 
with her in her work of relief. To their honor, be it said, the 
'boys' reciprocated her affection most heartily. 'That homely 
figure, clad in calico, wrapped in a shawl, and surmounted 
with a 'Shaker' bonnet, is more to this army than the Madonna 
to a Catholic !' said an officer, pointing to Mother Bickerdyke, 
as she emerged from the Sanitary Commission headquarters, 
in Memphis, laden with an assortment of supplies. Every sol- 
dier saluted her as she passed ; and those who were at leisure 
relieved her of her burden, and bore it to its destination. To 
the entire army of the West she was emphatically 'Mother 
Bickerdyke.' Nor have the soldiers forgotten her in her 
poverty and old age. They remember her to-day in many a 
tender letter, and send her many a small donation to eke out 
her scanty and irregular income." 



Mary A. Bickerdyku 79 

MOTHER BICKERDYKE'S CURE FOR THIEVES 

After the battle of Jielmont, Mother Bickerdykc was ap- 
pointed matron of the large post hospital at Cairo, which was 
filled with the wounded. She found time, however, to work 
for, and to visit daily, every other hospital in the town. The 
surgeon who appointed her was skilful and competent, but 
given to drunkenness, and he had little sympathy with his 
patients. lie had filled all the positions in the hospitals with 
surgeons and officers of his sort, and bacchanalian carousals 
in the "doctor's room" were of frequent occurrence. In 
twenty-four hours Mother l>ickerdykc and he were at sword's 
points. She denounced him to his face; and, when the gar- 
ments and delicacies sent her for the use of the sick and 
wounded disappeared mysteriously, she charged their theft 
upon him and his subordinates. 

He ordered her out of his hospital, and threatened to put 
her out if she did not hasten her departure. She replied that 
"she should stay as long as the men needed her — that if he ])ut 
her out of one door she would come in at another; and if he 
barred all the doors against her, she would come in at the win- 
dows, and that the patients would help her in. When any- 
body left it would be he, and not she," she assured him, "as 
she had already lodged complaints against him at head- 
quarters." "Conscience makes cowards of us all ;" and he 
did not proceed to expel her, as he might have done, and 
probably would, if his cause had been just. 

But though she was let alone, this was not the case with 
her supplies for the sick and wounded — they were stolen con- 
tinually. She caught a wardmaster dressed in the shirt, slip- 
pers, and socks that had been sent her, and, seizing him by 
the collar, in his own ward, she disrobed him sans ceremonie 
before the patients. Leaving him nude save his pantaloons, 
she uttered this parting injunction : "Now, you rascal, let's 
see what vou'll steal next !" To ascertain who were the thieves 



8o Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

of the food she prepared, she resorted to a somewhat dan- 
gerous ruse. Purchasing a quantity of tartar emetic at a drug 
store, she mixed it with some stewed peaches that she had 
openly cooked in the kitchen, teUing Tom, the cook, that 
"she wanted to leave them on the kitchen table overnight to 
cook" Then she went to her own room to await results. 

She did not wait long. Soon the sounds of suffering from 
the terribly sick thieves reached her ears, when, like a Nemesis, 
she stalked in among them. There they were, cooks, table- 
waiters, stewards, ward-masters, — all save some of the sur- 
geons, — suffering terribly from the emetic, but more from the 
apprehension that they were poisoned. "Peaches don't seem 
to agree with you, eh ?" she said, looking on the pale, retching, 
groaning fellows with a sardonic smile. "Well, let me tell you 
that you will have a worse time than this if you keep on 
stealing! You may eat something seasoned with ratsbane 
one of these nights." 

SEARCHING THE BATTLEFIELD AT MIDNIGHT 

After the battle of Donelson it was believed that all the 
wounded had been removed from the field, and the relief 
parties discontinued their work. Looking from his tent at mid- 
night, an officer observed a faint light flitting hither and 
thither on the abandoned battlefield, and, after puzzling over 
It for some time, sent his servant to ascertain the cause. It 
was Mother Bickerdyke, with a lantern, still groping among 
the dead. Stooping down, and turning their cold faces to- 
wards her, she scrutinized them searchingly, uneasy lest some 
might be left to die uncared for. She could not rest while she 
though any were overlooked who were vet living. 

"AUTHORITY FROM THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY" 
Three days after the battle of Shiloh, she was on the ground 
carrying system, order, and relief wherever she went. One 



Mary A. Bickerdykij 8i 

of the surgeons went to the rear with a wounded man, and 
found her wrapped in the gray overcoat of a rebel officer, for 
she had disposed of her blanket shawl to some poor fellow 
who needed it. She was wearing a soft slouch hat, having 
lost her inevitable Shaker bonnet. Her kettles had been set 
up, the fire kindled underneath, and she was dispensing hot 
soup, tea, crackers, panado, whiskey and water, and other 
refreshments to the shivering, fainting, wounded men. 

"Where did you get these articles?"' he inquired; "and 
under whose authority are you at work ?" 

She paid no heed to his interrogatories, and, indeed, did not 
hear them, so completely absorbed was she in her work of 
compassion. Watching her with admiration for her skill, ad- 
ministrative ability, and intelligence, — for she not only fed 
the wounded men, but temporarily dressed their wounds in 
some cases, — he approached her again : — 

"Madam, you seem to combine in yourself a sick-diet 
kitchen and a medical staff May I inquire under whose 
authority you are working?" 

Without pausing in her work, she answered him, "I have 
received my authority from the Lord God Almighty ; have you 
anything that ranks higher than that ?" The truth was, she 
held no position whatever at that time. She was only a "vol- 
unteer nurse," having received no appointment, and being at- 
tached to no corps of relief. 

MOTHER BICKERDYKE'S NIGHTGOWNS 

The ladies of the city and country were continually send- 
ing Mrs. Bickerdyke boxes of clothing for her own use. In 
her life of hard work, her clothes were soon worn out ; and as 
she never had time to bestow on herself, she was greatly in 
need of such kindnesses. Reserving for herself a few articles 
of which she had imperative need, she would take the re- 
mainder of her garments in her ambulance to the Southern 



82 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

women in the neighboring country, and peddled them for 
honey, fruit, milk, eggs, and butter, of which she never could 
have too much. 

Among the articles sent her at one time were two very 
elegant long night-dresses, embroidered, and trimmed with 
ruffles and lace. They were the gift of very dear friends; and 
she had some scruples about bartering them away as she did 
other garments. Returning with the "plunder" she had re- 
ceived in exchange for her superfluous clothing, she crossed 
a railroad track, on which stood a train of box cars. Stopping 
the ambulance, she began to explore them, according to her 
usual custom. Inside of one were two wounded soldiers going 
home on furlough. Their unhealed wounds were undressed, 
and full of vermin ; they were weak for lack of food, were 
depressed and discouraged, and in all respects were in a very 
sorry plight. 

"Humph !" said Mother Bickerdyke ; "now I see what them 
furbelowed nightgowns were sent down here for. The Lord 
meant I should put 'em to a good use, after all." 

The wounds of the poor fellows were washed and cleansed. 
Tearing off. bandages from the bottom of the night-dresses, 
she properly dressed and bandaged them. Socks, and drawers, 
and handkerchiefs were found in the ambulance; but she was 
entirely destitute of shirts. A happy thought came to her. 

"Here, boys," she said; "put on the upper half of these 
nightgowns; they're just the thing. My sakes! but that is 
lucky !" 

But to this the men decidedly objected. "They would wear 
the dirty, tattered shirts, that had not been changed in two 
months, rather than go home in a woman's nightgown !" 

"Oh, pshaw, boys! don't be fools!" persis'ted practical 
Mother Bickerdyke. "Nightgowns, or nightshirts ; what's the 
odds? These will be softer to your wounds; and Heaven 
knows they're enough sight cleaner. Put 'em on, and wear 'em 



Mary A. Bickerdyke; 83 

home. If anybody says anything, tell them you've jerked 'em 
from the secesh, and the folks will think a heap sight more of 
you for it." 

The men were persuaded, and got into the nondescript 
garments. In passing through Chicago, they halted for a brief 
rest at the Soldiers' Home, where, when their wounds were 
dressed, their outer shirts were discovered, marked in indelible 
ink, with Mrs. Bickerdyke's name. We offered to exchange 
them for genuine hospital shirts; but the men had had such 
sport already, that they clung to the abbreviated nightgowns, 
one of which is to-day preserved in a Wisconsin household as 
a sacred relic. 

MOTHER BICKERDYKE AT A WEDDING 

Late in 1862, Mrs. Bickerdyke was compelled to take a 
hrief furlough, and went direct to Chicago to the home of 
Mrs. Livermore. Her hostess was not at home when she ar- 
rived, but returned that evening. "Norwegian Martha," who 
had presided over her kitchen for years, and who had never 
before seen Mother Bickerdyke, informed her of the new 
arrival in characteristic style. 

"Another one more of them nurse woman have come with 
some carpet-bag," Martha said. (The nurses sent by the Com- 
mission into the service had made my house a sort of head- 
quarters as they passed through the city, a proceeding greatly 
■disapproved by Martha.) "This one have no afraid to do any- 
thing, and have make herself to take a bath, and have put her- 
self to bed till supper time. She say she have very many 
hundred miles rode, and very many aU-shot-tip" — shot to 
pieces — "soldiers to take care of, and she be got awful tired, 
and, poor woman, she look seek (sick). But she have make 
me to think of my poor mother, what make herself to die in 
Norway with so much work too hard, before to this country 
I come. I like this nurse woman what have come more than 



84 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

the rest that stayed away." The influence of Mother Bicker- 
dyke's great maternal heart was felt everywhere. 

Mrs. Livermore continues the story of the evening as 
follows : 

"After tea, I accompanied my family to the wedding of a 
friend, which was solemnized in a church near by. Wearied 
as Mother Bickerdyke was, she insisted on making one of the 
company. She believed it would rest her to see the inside of a 
meeting-house; it was a sight that had not blessed her eyes 
for eighteen months, she said. It was an intensely tedious 
ceremony; for the old clergyman who officiated at the mar- 
riage added to a very long prayer, a Scripture reading and a 
full half-hour's exhortation to good living, with directions for 
accomplishing it, which he counted ofT, firstly, secondly,, 
tliirdly, and so on. It was a sermon, in fact. After the mar- 
riage, the newly-wedded halted for a few moments in the 
church parlor, to take leave of their friends, as they were to 
proceed directly to the train, en route for the distant city of 
their future residence. Mother Bickerdyke was introduced, 
at her request; for she had learned that the young husband 
held the rank of major in one of the Illinois regiments. 

" 'My dear,' said our motherly heroine in a naive way to the 
bride, 'I have enjoyed your wedding very much; it has done 
me as much good as a prayer-meeting. I am very much re- 
freshed by it.' (She had slept through the interminable 
service.) "I am sure you will make your husband a good 
wife, for you have got the face of a good girl; and I hope 
you and he will live together a good many years. If he gets 
wounded in battle, and falls into my hands, I will try to take 
good care of him for you.' 

" 'Why, Mother Bickerdyke ! Ck)d bless you ! I am glad to 
see you !' burst out the bridegroom, with a mighty welcome. 
'You have already taken care of me. After the battle of 
Donelson I was brought up on one of the boats filled with 




"stonewall" JACKSON PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN 

ROBERT E. LEE 
ALEXANDER H. STEVENS GEORGE A. CUSTER 



Mary A. Bickerdyke; 87 

wounded men, and you took care of me, as you did of the 
rest, like a mother. Don't you remember a heutenant who had 
a minie-ball in his leg; and the doctors wanted to amputate 
the leg, and he fought against their doing it, and how you 
helped him keep it? I am the man. Here's the old leg, good 
as new. I have been promoted since.' But she could not re- 
call his case among the thousands more seriously wounded 
whom she had since carefully nursed." 

THE SOLDIER'S BUCKET OF EGGS 

With the medical authorities she was for a time at variance. 
The medical director at Memphis was a young man belonging 
to the regular army — able, industrious, skilful, and punctilious. 
He wished Mrs. Bickerdyke to revolve in an orbit he marked 
out for her — to recognize him as the head, and never to go 
beyond him, or outside him, for assistance or authority. 
Moreover, he was a Catholic, and naturally gave the prefer- 
ence to the excellent "Sisters of Mercy" as nurses; nor was 
he backward in publicly expressing his preference. He dis- 
approved of Mrs. Bickerdyke's laundry ; chiefly, it seemed, 
because he had not organized it. He did not approve of her 
contraband help, nor of her possessing so much power; nor, 
if the truth must be told, of Mother Bickerdyke herself. He 
could not see any excellence in a woman who worked with 
her own hands, who held no social position, who was as in- 
different to the Queen's English as to his red-tape, who cared 
little for the Catholic, but very much for the Congregational 
Church, and who did what she wished, when and as she 
wished, without consulting him, the medical director. 

Mrs. Bickerdyke cared little for what he said or thought, 
if he did not meddle with her ; for she was no more in love with 
the medical director than he was with her. He inspected her 
hospital regularly, and never found fault with it ; for its per- 
fect management defied criticism. Once, in passing through 



88 Capiivm. Stories About Famous Americans 

a ward, he espied some half-dozen eggs under a sick man's 
pillow. The man was recovering from a fever, and had a 
great craving for food, that could not be allowed him in his 
weak condition. Especially, he coveted boiled eggs; and, as 
the poor fellow was very babyish, Mrs. Bickerdyke had petted 
him in her motherly way, and tucked half a dozen hard boiled 
eggs under his pillow, telling him he should have them to eat 
when he was well enough. The sick man found a vast deal 
of comfort in fondling the eggs with his hands. I have seen 
men in hospitals handling half a dozen potatoes under their 
pillows in the same way. The medical director espied the 
eggs, and ordered them to the kitchen, declaring "he would 
have no hens' nests under the pillows." The man was 
just weak enough to cry miserably over his loss ; and the 
nurse in charge hastened to report the story to Mother 
Bickerdyke. 

If any unnecessary offense came to her boys, woe to him 
through whom it came. She would have "shown fight" to 
Secretary Stanton himself, if he had been the offender. 
Catching up a large pail filled with eggs, she strode into the 

ward, her blue eyes blazing, her cheeks glowing: "Doctor , 

will you tell me what harm it does to humor a sick man in an 
innocent fancy ? Let this boy have the eggs where he can see 
them. There, John, there's a whole pail full of eggs," push- 
ing them under the bed ; "and you may keep them there until 
they hatch, if you've a mind to." And she strode out again. 
Ihe doctor chose not to hear, and the boy's eggs were not 
meddled with again. 

HOW SHE PACIFIED THE DOCTOR 

A hospital doctor in Alemphis was in a great fury with 
her, and threatened that "he would send her home before she 
was a week older." 

"But I shan't go, doctor !" she answered. "I've come down 



Mary A. Bickerdyke 89 

here to stay, and I mean to stay until this thing is played out. 
I've enlisted for the war, as the boys have, and they want me 
and need me, and can't get on without me ; and so I shall stay,, 
doctor, and you'll have to make up your mind to get along 
with me the best way you can. It's of no use for you to try to tie 
me up with your red tape. There's too much to be done down 
here to stop for that. Nor is there any sense in your getting 
mad because I don't play second fiddle to you ; for I tell you 
I haven't got time for it. And. doctor, I guess you hadn't 
better get into a row with me, for whenever anybody does 
one of us two always goes to the wall, and 'tain't never me !" 

The doctor had a keen sense of the ridiculous, and Mother 
Eickerdyke's novel method of pacification amused him when 
he got over his short-lived anger. He was really a very 
superior officer; but like many another clever man he was 
dominated by the inborn belief that all women were to play 
"second fiddle" to him. He had the good sense to appreciate 
blunt Mother Eickerdyke's excellence, and when mutual friends 
entered on the work of pacification they were successful. 

Turning to her one day, in a threatening way, but half 
jocularly, he said, "Take care, madam ; your turn to go to the 
wall may come yet!" "May be so!" was her brief answer ;^ 
and then she went on with her work. From being at disa- 
greement, +hey finally came to a perfect understanding, and 
by and by became the best of friends. 

OUTRANKING SHERMAN 

She had had a surgeon dismissed for outrageous conduct. 
The dismissed surgeon went to General Sherman to complain 
of the injustice done him. "He had been grossly belied, and 
foul charges had been made against him, which he could prove 
false," was his declaration. "Who was your accuser?" asked 
General Sherman ; "who made the charges ?" "Why — why — 
I suppose," said the surgeon reluctantly, "it was that spiteful 



90 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

old woman, Mrs. Bickerdyke." "Oh, well, then," said Sher- 
man, "if it was she, I can't help you. She has more power 
than I — she ranks me." 

MOTHER BICKERDYKE'S SERMON TO THE LANDLORD 

On one occasion while she was on a visit to Chicago after 
supplies, she made several visits to the families of soldiers 
whom she had left in the hospitals. She found one of these 
families in great distress and poverty. The husband and father 
had been in positions for ten months that removed him be- 
yond reach of the paymaster; and his family were in great 
need of the money which he failed to receive. They were owing 
six months' house rent; and the landlord, a hard man, had 
served a writ of ejectment upon them, and was preparing to 
put them summarily into the street. Mother Bkkerdyke paid 
him a visit at his office, and sought to turn him from his 
purpose with all the peculiar eloquence of which she was mis- 
tress. He could not be moved, but scorned her and ordered 
lier from his premises. She rose to go, and, taking a Bible 
from the shelf, which was never used except to give legality 
1o oaths, she opened to the sixteenth chapter of Luke, and, 
straining to her full height, with a solemn and almost terrible 
face, she read these words before an audience of a dozen or 
more men. — 

" 'And it came to pass that the beggar died, and was car- 
ried by angels into Abraham's bosom. The rich man also died 
and was buried, and in hell— in hell— in hell,"— increasing 
the emphasis each time—" 'he lifted up his eyes, being in tor- 
ments, and saw Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom.' 
You see what you are coming to, sir," she added, "and the 
time may not be far off. :May God have mercy on your mean 
soul ! Good-bye." Then the resolute woman sought another 
house for the soldier's family, and rested not until she had 
raised the money to pay the rent six months in advance. 



Mary A. Bickerdyke 91 

GETTING THE BEST OF SHERMAN 

When General Sherman was preparing Chattanooga as 
his base for the Atlantic campaign, he had issued an order 
forbidding the agents of sanitary stores to go over the railroad 
from Nashville to Chattanooga. Mother Bickerdyke got a pass 
from General Grant that took her anyhow, and soon stood at 
General Sherman's headquarters. 

"Hallo! Why, how did you get down here?" asked one 
of the General's staft officers, as he saw her enter Sherman's 
headquarters. 

"Came down in the cars, of course, there's no other way 
of getting down here that I know of," replied the matter-of- 
fact woman. "I want to see General Sherman." 

"He is in there, writing," said the officer, pointing to an 
inner room ; "but I guess he won't see you." 

"Guess he will," and she pushed into the apartment. 
"Good morning, General ! I want to speak to you a moment. 
May I come in?" 

"I should think you had got in !" answered the General^ 
barely looking up, in great annoyance. "What's up now?" 

"Why, General," said the earnest matron, in a perfect tor- 
rent of words, "we can't stand this last order of yours, no- 
how. You'll have to change it as sure as you live. We can get 
along without any more nurses and agents, but the supplies 
we must have. The sick and wounded men need them, and 
you'll have to give permission to bring them down. The fact 
is. General, after a man is unable to carry a gun, and drops 
out of the lines, you don't trouble yourself about him, but 
turn him over to the hospitals, expecting the doctors and 
nurses to get him well and put him back again into the service 
as soon as possible. But how are we going to make bricks 
without straw? Tell me that if you can." 

"Well, I'm busy to-day, and cannot attend to you, I will 
see you some other time." But though Sherman kept on 



92 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

writing, and did not look up, Mother Bickerdyke saw a smile 
lurking in the corner of his mouth, and knew she would 
carry her point. So she persisted. 

"No, General ! Don't send me away until you've fixed this 
thing as it ought to be fixed. You had me assigned to your 
corps, and told me that you expected me to look after the 
nursing of the men who needed it. But I should like to know 
how I can do this if I don't have anything to work with? 
Have some sense about it now. General !" 

There was a hearty laugh at this, and a little badinage 
ensued, which Mother Bickerdyke ended in her brusque way, 
with, "Well, I can't stand fooling here all day. Now, General, 
write an order for two cars a day to be sent down from the 
Sanitary Commission at Nashville, and I'll be satisfied." The 
order was written, and for weeks all the sanitary stores sent 
from Nashville to Chattanooga, and the posts along that road, 
were sent directly or indirectly through this mediation of 
jMother Bickerdyke. 

THE OLD SOmiER'S FRIENDS 

]Many years after the Avar, Mother Bickerdyke came to 
Massachusetts for a brief visit with her old friends. She 
arrived at the home of Mrs. Livermore at the close of a dis- 
mally rainy day, wet and exhausted. She had spent the day 
in Boston, searching for an old soldier from Illinois, who had 
served out three terms in the House of Correction, for drunk- 
enness, during the last ten years. Mrs. Livermore remon- 
strated. She said to her: "My dear friend, why do you, at 
the age of seventy-three, waste yourself on such a worthless 
creature as that?" Turning to her hostess with a flash in 
her blue eyes, she answered: "Mary Livermore, I have a 
commission from the Lord God Almighty to do all I can for 
every miserable creature who comes in my way. He's always 
sure of two friends— God and me !" 




Joseph C. S. Blackburn 
JOSEPH C. S. BLACKBURN 

LOCKJAW HIS ONLY DANGER 

OENATOR JOSEPH C. S. BLACKBURN has a record of 
^^ indefatigable service in the Confederate Army. He never 
shirked a duty and is properly proud of that fact; but once 
some of his friends made an unsuccessful attempt to shirk a 
duty for him. 

In 1863, while Blackburn was a captain wearing a Con- 
federate uniform, he was ordered to the Red River Bottoms, 
and all of his friends objected to that destination for popular 
"Young Joe," as he was then called. 

One old friend of the family, who had known Joe Black- 
burn from his babyhood, rushed off after Doctor — afterward 
Governor — Blackburn, Joe's elder brother, and urged him to 
use his influence to have the order rescinded. 

"What for?" asked the Doctor. 

"Why, Doc, haven't you heard how the yaller fever's 
a-ragin' down there?" 

"Oh, well, Yellow Jack won't hurt Joe." 

The family friend then became diplomatic, and, instead 
of arguing any more about the yellow fever, he said : "But, 
Doc, there's the swamp fever carryin' off our Johnnies like 
flies. A man wakes up well in the morning and is dead by 
noon. It would be a downright shame to expose Joe to such 
danger." 

But Doctor Blackburn still shook his head and said: "I 
will not interfere with Joe's orders on any such trivial 
grounds." 

"Trivial grounds !" shouted the angry friend. "Do you call 
absolutely fatal diseases 'trivial grounds' ?" 

"Fatal diseases!" sneered Doctor Blackburn. "You ought 
to know as well as I do, man, that no disease could possibly 
prove fatal to Joe Blackburn, except lockjaw." 




Capital Stories About Famous Americans 
JAMES G. BLAINE 

HELPING OUT MEMORY 

THE memory of James G. Blaine for names and faces," 
said former Speaker David B. Henderson, "was famed 
in story if not in song. I had an experience with Mr. Blaine 
on one occasion, which it will do no hami to tell. 

"In 1882 I was Secretary of the Republican Congressional 
Committee, and boarded at Wormley's Hotel in Washington. 
In those days that was a famous place for Republicans, and the 
register showed the names of Blaine, Conkling, Morton, Logan, 
Edmunds and others of that calibre. 

"Mr. Blaine frequently passed and repassed me, when one 
morning as I came from breakfast I noticed that he eyed me 
closely. About half past one o'clock, as I was entering the 
hotel for lunch, Mr. Blaine came out. He stopped in front of 
me and asked : 'Are you not Colonel Henderson of Iowa ?' I 
replied that I was Henderson, and then Blaine 'said: 

" 'I thought this morning that I ought to know you ; but 
was not absolutely sure. I met you five years ago in Detroit 
when we were guests of General Alger. You made a great 
speech to the old soldiers that day,' and then he went on, 
showing a remarkable memory of me and knowdedge of my 
entire career. I thanked him, and after he was gone entered 
the dining-room and sent for the head-waiter, to whom I said : 

" 'I want you to tell me exactly what Mr. Blaine said about 
me this morning.' The waiter replied earnestly : 

" 'Mistah Blaine didn't say nothin' ag'in' you, Kunnel Hen- 
dahson. He o'ly asked me what youah name was ; an' w'en I 
done tole him, he said as how you was a mighty fine gen'leman, 
sah.' 

"And thus was Mr. Blaine's marvelous memory of names 
and faces explained to me, at least for that time. I am some- 
thing of a politician myself." 



Edwin Booth 95 

EDWIN BOOTH 

A PRINCE OF "DEAD-HEADS" 

THE late Edwin Booth and Lawrence Barrett were close 
personal friends of Stuart Robson, Robson often enter- 
tained his distinguished colleagues at his summer home on Long 
Island. On one such occasion, the trio, after dinner, took 
their seats on the piazza, when Booth, as usual, lapsed into 
silent reverie, while the others began to relate stories anent 
professional experiences. Finally, the conversation turned to 
"dead-heads." Robson had just finished an especially funny 
tale about one of these managerial bete noirs when the deep 
voice of Booth was heard, thus : — 

"I think, gentlemen, that I can give you an anecdote about 
one of the tribe that is probably unique." 

"Let's hear it Edwin, by all means," said Barrett. 

Booth fixed his sombre eyes on the sunset, and began : "It 
was during the first visit that I made to the South after the 
close of the Civil War. We were playing in a little town in 
Alabama. In my mail, one morning, I found a letter which 
ran something like this : — 
'' 'Dear Sir :— 

" 'My wife and self have always been great admirers of you. 
We want to see you play, very much, but cannot afiford to 
buy our tickets. Will you please send us a couple of seats ? I 
am sure you will not refuse this request when I tell you that 
I am the United States soldier that shot and killed your 
brother, who assassinated President Lincoln.' 

"I investigated, and found that the man's statement was 
correct." 

Booth's auditors gasped as his tragic tones boomed out the 
unexpected sequel to the tale. There was a dead silence for 
a full minute. Then Robson managed to ask : — 

"What did you do, Edwin?" 



gS Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"T sent him the tickets," answered the actor, his eyes still 
fixed on the glowing western horizon. 

The gruesome recital had been made without a trace o£ 
emotion, for a deepening of the gloom which marked Booth's 
facial expression from the day of the tragedy. Robson told 
the writer that the actor unquestionably realized that, if his 
brother had succeeded in reaching Washington alive, he would 
have met a terrible fate at the hands of the mob, and hence he 
felt grateful to the man who, with a rifle ball, averted this pos- 
sibility — of the two tragic ends he chose the latter. 

WILLIAM J. BRYAN 

THE GREATEST WORD 

TDHOCIAN HOWARD says: "One day while conversing 
-*- with William J. Bryan, I asked him what he considered 
the greatest word in the English language. 

" 'Contentment,' he said, before I could catch a breath. 
" 'This world is full of discontented men. Even some of the 
rich are not contented. The man who has contentment has 
the best gold that is to be secured in life. 

" 'Contentment is given to every man, but most men drive 
it away in the mad rush to gain things that are beyond their 
reach. The man who can be contented with what he has is 
the man who finds all that life is worth living for.' 

"When Bryan was nominated for President of the United 
States in 1896, all the money he had in the world was $106.25. 
Yet he was contented. If he had never been nominated, he 
would have been just as happy. He told me that he never ex- 
pected to receive the nomination, that it was his intention, 
when the Convention was over, to return to Nebraska, and 
devote his life to his family and his farm. 'But as long as 
I am called to fight for the people, that will be my main object 
in life,' he said." 



A^ 



Aaron Burr 97 

AARON BURR 

THE MAGNETISM OF AARON BURR 
S A VERY small child, Rebecca Harding Davis was 



brought indirectly into touch with Aaron Burr, through 
a little, withered old woman who taught the children of the 
village their A B C's. 

The queer, homely body was like a smothered fire, full of 
ideas foreign to the humdrum little town, or her poor dame's 
school. 

"She had been," says Mrs. Davis, "the only child of one of 
the foremost men of the country, and when she was a girl of 
sixteen was made the head of his house in Philadelphia, and 
had for her daily guests Washington and Franklin and the 
lesser political leaders. Her father was one of Burr's most 
relentless opponents. He went to Richmond, with all the rest 
of the world, to the trial of the arch traitor, taking his daugh- 
ter with him. They were quartered at the hotel. 

"When Burr was released, before the trial began, he called 
upon all the leading ladies of the town, among the rest upon 
the daughter of his chief enemy. Every morning thereafter 
he sent her a basket of choice roses. She had been taught to 
loathe and despise Burr and Benedict Arnold and Judas 
Iscariot alike, as brother traitors. But the roses and the man 
himself soon changed her, 

" 'When the trial opened,' she told me, 'the best people of 
the country were in that old house. Burr's adherents were 
ranged on one side of the court-room, his enemies on the other. 
My dear, every woman there sat on Burr's side !' 

"'And you ?' 

"Her brilliant eyes blazed under their white lashes, 'I was 
on the foremost row ! My father saw me and came down 
from his place and led me back to the hotel. He was 
white with anger. He locked me in my room and kept me 



98 Capital Stories About Famous America^^s 

there while the trial lasted. Fathers did such things in those 
days. I could do nothing for my new friend but pray for him, 
and I did it for days with cries and tears. How T hated the 
traitors who gave evidence against him — the friends he had 
trusted! For I believed Aaron Burr to be an innocent man 
and a great hero.' She lowered her voice and glanced around 
cautiously. 'And, my child, there are times when I believe it 
still !' 

"Which was treason," adds Mrs Davis, in telling the story 
to her friends, "for pretty Kitty had married the man whose 
testimony had almost sent Burr to the gallows." 

JOHN BURROUGHS 

THE BEGINNINGS OF A NATURALIST 

TJEO BENNETT relates this incident of a visit to John 
-*-^ Burroughs, the famous naturalist: 

We found him swinging in a hammock ; and, as we ap- 
proached, he rose to meet us, with the easy grace of a man 
who has in his day met many people. He bade us be seated 
on a rug spread out on a grassy bank beside the hammock, 
and his dogs, fearing that their master's greeting lacked some- 
what in cordiality, leaped and tumbled over us till we felt 
like old members of the family and made so bold as to shout, 
"Lie down !" 

He then told us, by way of starting conversation, how 
he and Laddie, a beautiful collie, a dog that could go after the 
cows, and, unassisted, bring the whole fifty-eight of them right 
to the barn, — how he and Laddie were walking in the pasture 
one afternoon, when bull, an arrogant fellow, roared a chal- 
lenge over the wall to either one of them. "Well, we fixed 
him, didn't we, Laddie?" And Laddie's answer with bark 
and tail bade me to believe that there must be a good joke on 
the bull between master and dog-. 



John Burroughs 99 

He told us of a humming bird that had built a nest in a 
small apple tree just under his window, and how he had 
watched her and her eggs, and how, one day, when he looked 
in the nest, one egg was gone, and careful inspection revealed 
a black, hairless mass the size of a little finger nail that proved 
to be a newly hatched bird, and then how the second egg 
hatched, and the mother with her long needle-like bill fed 
them, and finally, one day flew away. The story, had it been 
of hair-raising adventure and narrow escapes, could not have 
held its audience better. 

Then he spoke of a certain boy, Jay Gould by name, who 
sat behind him in the small, red schoolhouse, when he learned 
the rule of three. 

"John and Jay," said an old fellow who attended the same 
school, "were not like the other boys. They learned their 
lessons easier, somehow or other, and at recess, instead of 
joining in the games, leaned against the side of the schoolhouse 
and looked on. John always knew where to find the largest 
trout; he could show you birds' nests, and name all the flow- 
ers. He was fond of reading, and would walk five miles to 
borrow a book. But then he was a lazy fellow on the farm. 
I guess he is yet, for that matter. John Burroughs is all 
right, though, and Roxbury is proud of the fact that it can 
claim him. We celebrated 'Burroughs Day' instead of Arbor 
Day here last spring, in the high-schoolhouse, in honor of 
him." 

After J\Ir. Burroughs left the school, he attended an 
academy for a short time. It was there, he says, that he saw 
an author for the first time. 

"I distinctly remember with what emotion I gazed upon 
him," he said, "and followed him about in the twilight, keep- 
ing on the other side of the street. He was of little account, — 
a man who had failed as a lawyer, and then had written a his- 
tory of Poland, which I have never heard of since that time; 



loo Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

but to me he was the embodiment of the august spirit of 
authorship, and I looked upon him with more reverence and 
enthusiasm than I had ever before looked upon any man. 
I cannot divine why I should have stood in such worshipful 
fear and awe of this obscure individual, but I suppose it was 
the instinctive tribute of a timid and imaginative youth to a 
power he was just beginning to see, — or to feel, — the power of 
letters." 

He says, in the latest edition of his famous work: "My 
first book, Wake Robin, was written while I was a govern- 
ment clerk in Washington. It enabled me to live over again 
the days I had passed with the birds, and in the scenes of my 
youth. I wrote the book while sitting at a desk in front of an 
iron wall. I was the keeper of a vault in which many millions 
of bank-notes were stored. During my long periods of leisure, 
I took refuge in my pen. How my mind reacted from the iron 
wall in front of me, and sought solace in memories of the 
birds and of summer fields and woods !" 

BENJAMIN F. BUTLER 

•THE LATE UNPLEASANTNESS" 

EVERY one is familiar with- the term, "the late unpleas- 
antness," as denoting the war between the States, but 
there are few who know that it was coined by none other 
than the late General Benjamin F. Butler. The late Dr. A. 
Y. P. Garnett, of Washington, used to tell the story some- 
what as follows : 

At a dinner given in Washington by Caleb Gushing shortly 
after the war. General Butler and Doctor Garnett were in- 
vited guests. Doctor Garnett was detained by his professional 
duties and did not come in until late. When he entered the 
dining-room General Butler was speaking, and, by way of 
contributing to the general good humor of the evening, the 



Joseph G. Cannon ioi 

Union General took occasion, in the course of his remarks 
to refer to the war as "the late rebellion.*' 

Doctor Garnett, who was then one of the leading physicians 
of Washington, had been Surgeon-General of the Confederate 
army and private physician to Jefferson Davis. Unless Robert 
Toombs, of Georgia, might be excepted, there was never a 
more unreconstructed rebel than Doctor Garnett. When the 
ex-Confederate heard General Butler's remark he was on his 
feet in an instant. 

"There was no rebellion, sir !" he cried. "There was no 
one to rebel against. We were free-born American citizens, 
fighting for what we thought was right. Fate was against 
us and we surrendered in good faith. I permit no man to say 
in my presence that we were rebels." 

General Butler bowed. "I regret extremely having given 
oft"ense to a fellow-guest," he said, smiling. "If I may be per- 
mitted by my host and by Doctor Garnett I will withdraw 
my epithet. Instead of the rebellion we will call it the late un- 
pleasantness." 

Doctor Garnett's keen sense of humor rose to the occasion, 
and he smiled, in spite of himself, at General Butler's adroit- 
ness. 

JOSEPH G. CANNON 

HOW "UNCLE JO" LOST THE SENATORSHIP 

AFTER Joseph G. Cannon had been defeated in the contest 
-^^ for the Senatorship from Illinois, the crops of Wash- 
ington correspondents gathered en masse at his hotel to inter- 
view him. There were many veiled allusions as to what had 
happened in the Illinois legislature, and finally one of the cor- 
respondents mustered up courage to ask him outright: — 
"Now, Uncle Jo, tell us just why you were defeated?" 
The other correspondents looked aghast at their colleague. 



102 Capital Stories About Famous Amkricans 

Mr. Cannon seized the inquirer by the arm, led him away from 
the group, and then, leaning close to his ear, whispered in a 
stage tone that could be heard throughout the small hotel cor- 
ridor, "I didn't have votes enough." 

The roar of laughter had hardly subsided when Representa- 
tive Rodenberg, at one time a member of the United States 
Civil Service Commission and now Representative-elect to Con- 
gress, declared : — 

"I'll tell you the truth, boys. Cannon got to be too much 
of an aristocrat for his farmer legislators." 

The assertion was received with surprise by those who 
knew Mr. Cannon so well for his democratic manner of wear- 
ing his clothes and appearing on the floor of the house as well 
as in his committee room at the capitol, and the affable and 
hearty way which he has of meeting his friends with a slap 
on the back and a hearty laugh. 

"It's true," urged Rodenberg, "I heard him make a speech 
in the caucus, and there he was shouting 'either' and 'neither' 
and sounding the 'ei' in that long accented way so affected, 
it is popularly believed out in Illinois, only by aristocrats. I 
knew that Cannon's race was lost." 

A DEAL IN OVERCOATS 

Joseph G Cannon, Speaker of the House of Representa- 
tives, is not as careful about the details of his dress as some 
other members of Congress. Since his elevation to his present 
position he has paid more attention to his apparel than he did 
when he was merely one of the many on the floor, but even 
now he forgets sometimes to the extent of leaving a few inches 
of waistcoat unbuttoned or a cravat crawling up to his ear 
instead of keeping under his chin. A few days before Con- 
gress adjourned, he appeared in a brand new suit, the fit and 
general style of which indicated the work of a finished and up- 
to-date tailor. This had the effect of reviving a story of the old 



Joseph G. Cannon 103 

days when he did not even dream, perhaps, of occupying the 
seat made notable by Crisp and Reed. "Uncle Joe," as he is 
familiarly called, has always been economical, and firmly be- 
lieves that a dollar saved is a dollar earned. One of his 
methods of laying up money along these lines used to be to buy 
ready-made clothing, and to pay not more than fifteen dollars 
for a suit or an overcoat. The result was sometimes too 
marked to be altogether acceptable to the members of his 
family, and ultimately his daughters worked out a plan which 
they thought would solve all the various problems involved. 
The scheme was simply to go to the clothing store where their 
father traded, deposit a certain sum of money with the pro- 
prietor, and instruct him to bring out his best stock when his 
distinguished customer called, but to say or do nothing that 
would give him a hint that the clothing displayed for his in- 
spection was not his favorite fifteen-dollar grade. Then, if he 
chanced to select a suit worth forty-five dollars, he paid his 
fifteen dollars, and the remaining thirty dollars was taken from 
the amount deposited by his daughters. All went well until 
some of the neighbors were let into the secret. One day 
"Uncle Joe" came proudly down the street wearing a hand- 
some new overcoat for which he had just paid fifteen dollars, 
but for which the storekeeper had also deducted an additional 
thirty-five dollars from the trust fund. A friend who had be- 
come acquainted with the modus operandi of the deal met him 
and expressed excessive admiration for the new garment. 

"Yes, it's a fine coat," said Mr. Cannon. "Only cost me 
fifteen dollars, too." 

"You don't say !" was the friend's response. "Why, I'll 
give you twenty-five dollars for it !" 

"Uncle Joe" remembered that while at the store he had seen 
several coats exactly like his, which the salesman had told him 
were held at the same price, and not being averse to picking 
up ten dollars with so little effort, said, "I'll go you." 



104 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

The exchange was quickly effected. While walking- on to- 
wards his office, "Uncle Joe" met one of his daughters. She 
scolded him for exposing himself to the weather without an 
overcoat, and, thereupon, he told her the story of his recent 
deal. Then he sauntered on to the store and purchased another 
coat like the first for fifteen dollars. 

"You don't know your business," he said to the tailor, as 
he related the sale of the first garment ; "you're selling these 
coats too cheap." 

"I think you'd make a better tradesman than a politician," 
said the tailor, in reply. 

But the grizzled wielder of the nation's gavel did not see the 
joke until, some time later, his daughter told him the secret. 

HOW "UNCLE JO" BROKE WITH THE QUAKERS 

Tradition has it that Cannon's break with the Society of 
Friends occurred many years ago, when an influential member 
came to expostulate with him on his marriage with one of the 
world's people. 

"Friend Joseph," said his venerable visitor, "thee knows 
what the good Book says about being unequally yoked with 
unbelievers. The Friends everywhere feel much distressed 
over thy rash step, and hope that mature thought will bring 
thee to a better frame of mind, and that thee will say as much 
at the next meeting." 

To this excellent person's astonishment. Friend Joseph, in- 
stead of receiving his admonition with becoming meekness of 
spirit, opened a rhetorical crater long supposed extinct, and in 
slow and measured periods put forth some of the carnal man's 
most unprintable language. He concluded with the declara- 
tion: "If you mean that I am to get up in meeting and say 
I'm sorry I married Mary, I won't do it. I'm not sorry, and I 
won't say that I am !" This ended the interview, and launched 
the young lawyer as a full-armored worldling. 



Andrew Carnegie; 105 

USED TO CRITICISM 

One day the late Colonel Macdonald, Commissioner of 
Fisheries, came before the Committee to explain his estimates, 
and was riddled with interrogatories by the Chairman, as 
usual. The next morning a yellow journal published a sensa- 
tional attack on the administration of the Fish Commission, 
and the Senate voted to have an investigation. The Commis- 
sioner, an honest man unused to this sort of treatment, be- 
came terribly alarmed lest these incidents should affect the 
temper of the House Committee on Appropriations. After a 
sleepless night he sought Cannon and made a clean breast of 
his fears. With no change of countenance. Cannon asked : 

"When you were before our Committee, you told us what 
you needed for the coming year, and why you needed it, 
didn't you ?" 

"Yes." 

"Did we tell you you couldn't have it?" 

"No." 

"Then go home and take your full night's rest in comfort. 
We base our appropriations on our own judgement, not on 
newspaper attacks. Why, my good friend" — his face relaxing 
into a broad smile as he laid his hand on Colonel Macdonald's 
shoulder — "I've got to such a point that if I go through a 
week without being caricatured or lampooned, I really miss 
it. I feel as if I must have suddenly lost my grip, or done 
something I ought to be ashamed of." 

ANDREW CARNEGIE 

THE TURTLE WHO WON THE RACE 

TTTHEN Andrew Carnegie's parents first came to America 

^ ^ from Scotland, they went to East Liverpool, Ohio, to 

stay with some relatives. Their son was about fourteen years 

old at the time, and was an object of considerable interest to 



io6 CAriTAL Stories About Famous Americans 

the boys of the neighborhood. He made many friends among 
them, and after the family had moved to Allegheny, Pennsyl- 
vania, often returned to East Liverpool to visit some of his 
playmates. 

On one occasion, when he was sixteen years old, he went 
with his cousin to visit William and Michael Fisher, who lived 
on a farm about half a mile from the town. The four boys 
spent some time in examining the pet rabbits and other objects 
of interest, and, at length, when they were all standing at the 
top of a grassy slope, William Fisher challenged Carnegie to a 
foot race. "Well," said Andrew, "you're a lot taller than I am, 
and your legs are longer, and I believe you can beat me, but 
I'll race you, just the same." 

The two boys started, and, as Andrew had foreseen, the 
Fisher boy easily outran him. The little Scotchman was by 
no means discouraged because the chances seemed all against 
him, but kept running. About half way down the slope the 
Fisher boy stopped, considering it useless to run further. To 
his surprise, Carnegie continued his pace, and arrived at the 
bottom far ahead of him. "That's not fair," said Fisher, "be- 
cause I stopped." 

"Yes, I knew you'd stop," said Carnegie, in reply, "and 
that's the reason I kept on running. Have you ever heard 
the fable of the turtle and the hare?" 

MR. CARNEGIE WAS BUSY WITH AFRICA 

A crank of the gentler sort recently wrote to Andrew Car- 
negie, calling his attention to the fact that the Eskimo 
could not advance morally and intellectually so long as they 
had to expend all their energy in keeping warm and seeking 
food ; therefore it was the clear duty of their neighbors further 
south to aid them in overcoming the disadvantage of their 
habitat. To this end the writer proposed that Mr. Carnegie 
equip a fleet of coal-laden steamers, which, during the summer 



Andrew Carnegie; 107 

months, should cruise along the Greenland coast, leaving sup- 
plies of coal wherever needed for winter consumption. Stoves,, 
cooking utensils, etc., were also to be given to the natives. 
Mr. Carnegie dictated the following letter to his secretary : 
"Dear Sir : — Yours is received. I am considering a plan 
to supply the natives of Equatorial Africa with ice cream and 
electric fans, hence I can not entertain your excellent proposi- 
tion just now." 

CARNEGIE AT THE FOOT OF THE LADDER 

When the Carnegies arrived in America, they settled in 
Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. Two days after their arrival there^ 
"Andy" Carnegie secured his first position. 

His father's means were so limited that the family could 
not exist on them ; and, when "Andy" came home and said that 
he had secured work as a bobbin-boy in a linen factory, at 
one dollar and twenty cents a week, his parents felt that they 
could find some happiness in their new home. Young Carne- 
gie was so proud of his achievement that he made up his mind 
at once that he was going to make a success of life. 

His next step was to secure a position for his father in the 
same factory. Young Andrew quickly showed that he had a 
liking for machinery, and he was given charge of a stationary 
engine in the factory. For nearly two years he kept this posi- 
tion, — oily, begrimed, and wearing overalls, — and then he 
sought something with a higher motive, and became a messen- 
ger boy for the Atlantic and Ohio Telegraph Company, of 
Pittsburg. 

This, in Mr. Carnegie's mind, was his best move. After 
long and successful years, Mr. Carnegie wrote of this change : 

"My entrance into the telegraph office was a transition from 
darkness to light, from firing a small engine in a dirty cellar, 
to a clean office where there were books and papers and a 
chance to advance. That was paradise to me, and I bless the 



io8 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

stars that sent me to be a messenger in a telegraph office." 

The stars may have had something to do with it, but there 
was a stronger power to guide the boy to better things, and 
that power was James Reid, the superintendent of the com- 
pany. To-day, Mr. Reid is a worthy citizen of New York, and 
he says that he can remember distinctly the first day that 
Andrew Carnegie went to work. 

"He was so determined," says Mr. Reid, recalHng the day, 
^'that I became interested in him at once. He seemed to have 
determination written on his face. His eagerness to work and 
learn were very noticeable. Before he had been with me a 
month, he asked to be taught telegraphy. When I consented, 
he spent all his spare time in practice, transmitting and re- 
ceiving by sound, and not by tape. He was the third operator 
in the United States to read the Morse signals by sound." 

While he was employed by Mr. Reid, his father died, and 
he became the breadwinner for his mother and his younger 
"brother, Thomas. He took up the duty with a light heart, 
and determined, a few years later, that he would not marry as 
long as his mother lived. He kept his word. His mother lived 
to enjoy the fruits of her son's early successes. In 1886, she 
passed away, and Thomas Carnegie followed her soon after. 

One year in the employ of the Atlantic and Ohio Telegraph 
Company made Andrew Carnegie an expert operator. It was 
soon after his fifteenth birthday that the superintendent of the 
Pennslyvania Railroad Company said to Mr. Reid: 

"We need a telegraph operator. Do you know a good 
one ?" 

"There's a young man in my office named Carnegie," said 
Mr. Reid, "who shows that he wants to work. He might suit 
you." 

It so happened that the superintendent of the Pennsylvania 
Railroad needed, particularly, a man who "wanted to work." 
He told Mr. Reid to send Carnegie to him. 



George W. Childs 109 

In his new position, Andrew Carnegie further showed his 
"stick-to-it-iveness." He quickly mastered the details of train- 
dispatching, and was promoted to the headquarters of the 
company, and, soon after, became superintendent of the west- 
ern division of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company. He was 
then but twenty-four years old. 

AN HONEST ANSWER 

During his recent visit to Washington, Andrew Carnegie 
had occasion to send a mesenger boy with a note to the chair- 
man of the committee charged with the inaugural cere- 
monies in connection with the new Carnegie Library in 
that city. As the distance from the hotel to the library is 
considerable, the boy was obliged to consume the larger part 
of two hours before he could return with the answer. When 
he had come back the millionaire asked how much the boy 
charged for his services. The lad stuttered badly. "Fi-fi-fi-fi- 
fifteen c-c-cents," was his gasping reply. 

''Why didn't you make it a quarter?" asked Mr. Carnegie. 

"B-b-b-b-b-because," painfully stammered the boy, "I 
c-c-c-c-c-could-could-couldn't s-s-ssay it." 

GEORGE W. CHILDS 

HOW HE BOUGHT THE "PUBUC LEDGER" 

'XT 7 HEN William M. Swain was foreman of the printing- 
^ ^ department of the New York Stm, at a salary of fif- 
teen dollars a week, he probably never dreamed that one day 
he would be able to sell the Public Ledger, of Philadelphia, 
for $1,000,000. While working for the Sun, Mr. Swain be- 
came sick. When he returned to work, there was a dispute 
over his salary, and he resigned in disgust. With A. S. Abell 
and Azariah H. Simmons, he went to Philadelphia, and, on 
March 25, 1836, the Ledger made its appearance. Mr. Swain 



no Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

was a joumalist of the aggressive type, and, although his 
paper was only nine by thirteen and one-half inches in size, 
it soon became known as "the sheet with the chronic temper." 
This was because of the editor's policy of "roasting" every- 
thing that didn't suit him. He came out strongly for aboli- 
tion, and thrice his office was mobbed, — and once it was almost 
annihilated. 

One day there walked into the ofifice a natty-looking youth 
who desired to rent an office in the Ledger Building. He said 
his name was George W. Childs, and that he was a publisher. 
Young Childs was immediately impressed with the magnitude 
of the Ledger and, a few days later, he met Mr. Swain in 
front of the building, and said: — 

''Mr. Swain, some day I would like to buy your paper." 

Mr. Swain glared at the bold young man, and replied : 
"You'll have gray hairs before you do." 

Mr. Childs kept that one idea in his head, — the ownership 
of the Ledger. He worked diligently, and his business suc- 
ceeded. Sixteen years later, while looking over his bank ac- 
count, he came to the conclusion that he was prepared for the 
great object of his life. That day was December 3, 1864. 
When he entered Mr. Swain's office, that gentleman had no 
idea of selling his property; but, half an hour later, Childs 
was occupying his desk, and Mr. Swain was trudging toward 
his bank to place a million dollars to his credit. 

JOSEPH H. CHOATE 

"THESE GENTLEMEN ARE VAMPIRES" 

/^NCE, when he was defending a suit against a large cor- 
^-^ poration, the plaintiff's counsel, a well-known New York 
lawyer, raked Mr. Choate's clients fore and aft in the good old- 
fashioned style of invective, denouncing them as "vampires, 
monsters that feed on the blood of the people," and so forth. 



Joseph H. Ciioate hi 

The jury was evidently impressed, and the orator, after a final 
broadside from his heaviest batteries, sat down in triumph. 
Mr. Choate had been leaning back at ease in his chair with his 
hands in his pockets. He rose to reply with a pleasant smile 
upon his handsome face. 

"Gentlemen of the jury," he said in quiet tones, "do you 
know what a vampire really is ? Look at the Quaker gen- 
tleman who is the president of the defendant company — sitting 
there with a gray suit and a white neckcloth. Look at the 
seemingly inoffensive young man sitting beside him — his sec- 
retary. You thought vampires were something terrible when 
Brother Parsons described them; but can it be so? For these 
gentlemen are vampires !" 

The whole court-room smiled, and the effect of the oppos- 
ing lawyers' ponderous artillery was undone. 

A HINT TO THE JUDGE 

And with all his velvet gentleness of method, he never 
lacked fighting power or the ability to assert himself. He was 
making the closing speech in an important case before the 
local Supreme Court when the judge wheeled round in his 
chair and began to talk to a friend. The lawyer ceased speak- 
ing. The justice, noticing the silence, looked inquiringly at him. 

"Your honor," said Choate, "I have just forty minutes in 
which to make my final argument. I shall not only need every 
second of that time to do it justice, but I shall also need your 
undivided attention." 

The undivided attention was secured ; but only a lawyer 
can fully understand how much courage was needed to deliver 
so dignified a rebuke to the potentate on the bench. 

HIS SECOND CHOICE 

The stories told of Mr. Choate are countless. He is one 
of those picturesque figures about whom stories cluster. Some 



112 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

of them, no doubt, belong rightfully to other celebrities; but 
he has originated witticisms enough to fill a volume. Here 
is one of his best, a typical flash of his epigrammatic philo- 
sophy : 

Some one asked him who he would choose to be, if he were 
not Joseph H. Choate. 

"Mrs. Choate's second husband," was the instantaneous 
reply. 

"A LITTLE LOWER THAN THE ANGELS" 

The same fine courtesy, which is characteristic of the man, 
showed in the sentence with which he began a speech at a 
public dinner, when he glanced at the gallery above him and 
saw that it was full of ladies. 

"Now," he said, "I understand the meaning of the scriptural 
phrase, 'Thou madest man a little lower than the angels.' " 

RUFUS CHOATE 

"OUFUS CHOATE, the great lawyer, was in many re- 
-*-^ spects one of the most lovable characters in American 
history. He was remarkable during his youth for the same 
sweetness of temper, and quick sense of the ludicrous, which 
he carried with him through life. He was easily persuaded 
to a particular course of conduct by his mother or sisters, and 
could not bear to grieve them ; if he could not carry his point 
by good-natured pleasantry he would yield with the best grace 
in the world. By the same humor, he sometimes warded off 
reproof, even when justly merited. 

TURNING REBUKE TO LAUGHTER 

An older sister was once beginning to admonish him for 
something which he had done, which was clearly wrong. He 
saw it coming and was determined to break the force of it. 



RuFus Choat^ 113 

While she was bestowing the rebuke with the earnestness 
which the otTence seemed to deserve, happening to raise her 
eyes, she saw him standing with his right hand up by the side 
of his head, in the attitude of a person to whom an oath is 
administered, and with a face of extraordinary demureness 
and solemnity. The sight of him in this roguish position put 
an end at once to the lecture and to the feeling which prompted 
it. The loudest of laughs ended the scene, 

A MIDNIGHT JOURNEY 

On one very stormy night during his residence in Danvers, 
he was called upon, at a late hour, to draw the will of a 
dying man who lived several miles distant. He went, per- 
formed the service, and returned home. But after going to 
bed, as he lay revolving in his mind each provision of the 
paper he had so rapidly prepared, there flashed across his 
memory an omission that might possibly cause the testator's 
intention to be misunderstood. He sprang from his bed and 
began dressing himself rapidly, to the great surprise of his 
wife, only answering her inquiries by saying that he had done 
what must be undone, and in the thick of the storm, rode 
again to his dying client, explained the reason of his return, 
and drew a codicil to the will which made everything sure. 
He related this in after-life in illustration of a remark, that 
sometimes, years after a case had been tried, he would feel a 
pang of reproach that he had not urged some argument which 
at that moment flashed across his mind. He always thought 
his lost cases over again, to see if he could find any argument 
whereby he might have gained them. 

THE TURKEY CASE 

Many stories are told of his ingenuity and success as a 
criminal lav/yer. One of the most characteristic was that told 
of a man by the name of Jefferds, indicted for stealing a flock 



114 CAriTAL Storics About Famous Americans 

of turkeys. "We had this case," says a distinguished mem- 
ber of the bar, "at every term of court for a year or more, and 
the inquiry used to be 'When are the turkeys coming- on?' 
The proofs accumulated on the part of the government at each 
successive trial. The County Attorney, a man of experience 
and abihty, fortified himself on every point, and piled proof 
upon proof at each successive trial, but all without success. 
The voice of the charmer was too powerful for his proofs, 
and at each trial — three or four in all, I forget which — there 
was one dissenting juror. The case at last became famous in 
the county, and in the vacations of the court the inquiry was 
often heard, 'When is the turkey case coming on again?' and 
persons would come from different parts of the county on pur- 
pose to hear that trial. Here the theatre was still larger. It 
was the county, the native county, of the already distinguished 
advocate. I heard those trials. One was in old Ipswich in 
December, I think — a leisure season — within four miles of 
the spot where the orator was born. They came up from 
Essex, — old Chebacco, — the old and the young men of the 
town. Representatives, more or less, from the whole body of 
the county, were present, and the court-house was crowded 
with delighted and astonished listeners. I remember how they 
all hung upon him, spellbound by his eloquence, and I verily 
believe these bystanders would have acquitted by a majority 
vote; but the jury, bound by their oaths to return a true ver- 
dict according to the evidence, would not do so: but still 
there was one dissenting juror; and finally the prosecuting 
officer, in utter despair, after the third or fourth trial, entered 
a nolle prosequi, and thus the turkeys were turned or driven 
out of court. I have heard that this alleged turkey-thief years 
afterward called on Mr. Choate at his office in Boston. Mr. 
Choate did not recollect him, which greatly surprised the old 
client, and he said, 'Why, Mr. Choate, I'm the man you plead 
so for in the turkey case, when thev couldn't find anvthing 



RuFus Choate 115 

agin me.' There had been only forty-four good and true men 
against him (if there were four trials, and I believe there 
were), without including twenty-three more of the grand 
jury!" 

••A LITTLE PATERNAL STRETCHING" 

The power of presenting things in a ludicrous aspect, by 
an odd turn of expression or a laughable exaggeration, was 
exhibited at this early period no less decidedly than in later life, 
and was equally effective in attracting attention, A mis- 
chievous boy had proved very troublesome to a man by the 
name of Adams, by letting down the bars of his pasture, de- 
stroying the fences, and similar misdeeds. Adams one day 
caught him at his tricks, and not being in a very humane or 
careful mood, seized and swung him around by the hair of 
his head. The father of the boy prosecuted Adams, and Mr. 
Choate defended him. In the course of the argument, he 
characterized the act as "a little paternal stretching of the 
neck, which perchance may save this forward lad from a 
final and a more eventful stretching." The jury seems to have 
agreed with him for it promptly acquitted his client. 

CHARMED BY THE MUSIC OF HIS VOICE 

It was in the House of Representatives at Washington that 
Benjamin Hardin, — "Old Ben Hardin," — as he was called, 
of Kentucky, heard Mr. Choate for the first time. I give it in 
the words of one who was present. "Mr. Hardin was an old 
stager in politics, a strong-minded, though somewhat rough 
individual, who was not disposed to much leniency in his 
criticisms of the efforts of younger members. He was, like 
Mr. Choate, Whig in politics ; and several days, or perhaps 
weeks, after the speech of Mr. Choate, he made an elaborate 
argument on the same question, and on the same side. At 
the outset of his remarks he stated that it was his uniform 



ii6 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

rule not to listen to speeches upon the same side of a ques- 
tion that he intended to discuss, as he wished to be conscious 
of feeling- that no part of his argument had been anticipated 
by others, 'but,' said he, 'I was compelled to depart from this 
rule once during this debate. The member from Massa- 
chusetts rose to speak, and, in accordance with my custom, 
I took my hat to leave, lingering a moment just to notice the 
tone of his voice and the manner of his speech. But that 
moment was fatal to my resolution. I became charmed by the 
music of his voice, and was captivated by the power of his 
eloquence, and found myself wholly unable to move until the 
last word of his beautiful speech had been uttered." 

LAWYER'S VACATION 

He once told Judge Warren that he was going to write a 
book. "Ah," said the Judge, "what is it to be ?"— "Well," 
replied Mr. Choate, "I've got as far as the title-page and a 
motto." — "What are they?" — "The subject is The Lawyci-'s 
Vacation, the motto — I've forgotten. But I shall show that 
the lawyer's vacation is the space between the question put to 
a witness and his answer !" 

RUFUS CHOATE'S BOLDNESS AS A LAWYER 

A distinguished lawyer often associated with him, relates 
this story: "In an insurance case we were for the plaintiff. 
A vessel had been insured for a year, with a warranty that she 
should not go north of the Okhotsk Sea. Within the year she 
was burned north of the limits of the Okhotsk Sea proper, 
but south of the extreme limits of some of that sea's adjacent 
gulfs. The defendant set up that there was no loss within 
the limits of the policy; and numerous witnesses had been 
summoned by both parties, — on our side to show that by mer- 
chants the Okhotsk Sea was considered to include the bays 
and gulfs; on the other side, to prove the contrary. A pro- 



RuFus Choate 117 

traded trial was expected, and everything had been prepared. 
As we were walking to the court-house, he said, 'Why should 
we prove that we were not north of that sea? — why not let 
them prove that we were? What do you think of it?' — 'It 
seems to be the right way, certainly,' said I. 'Let us do it, — 
open the case on that idea.' I did so, and put on the mate to 
prove the burning at a certain time within the year. No 
cross-examination followed, and we rested our case. The 
other side were dumbfounded. They had expected that we 
should be at least two days putting in our case on the other 
theory, and had no witnesses at hand. They fought our plan 
stoutly; but the Court was with us, and they were obliged 
to submit to a verdict in our favor. The case lasted one 
hour." 

CHILDLIKE IN MONEY MATTERS 

"I remember," says a gentleman who studied with him, 
"that one morning he came rushing into his office for $500, 
remarking, in his sportive way, 'My kingdom for $500; have 
I got it?' He went to his blue bank-book, looked at it, and 
said, "Not a dollar, not a dollar,' and was going out, either to 
borrow or collect, when I stopped him. The old book had 
been filled, and the teller had given him a new one without 
entering in it the amount to his credit, the month not being 
ended when the accounts were usually balanced. I showed 
him the old book, and there was a balance in his favor of 
$1,200. He looked surprised, and said, 'Thank God.' But 
if the $1,200 had disappeared, he never would have been the 
wiser." 

ESTABLISHING A PRECEDENT 

During a trial, Mr. Choate was pressing the Court to make 
what he thought a very equitable and necessary order in rela- 
tion to taking a certain deposition. The Court, finding no 



ii8 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

precedent for it, suggested that the matter be suspended till 
next day, "and then," added the Judge, "I will make the 
order if you shall be able to furnish me with any precedent for 
such a proceeding." "I will look, your Honor," replied Mn 
Choate, in his most deferential manner, "and endeavor to 
find a precedent, if you require it ; though it would seem to be 
a pity that the Court should lose the honor of being the first 
to establish so just a rule." 

AN EFFECTIVE APOLOGY 

In replying to a lawyer who had been addressing the 
Court in a loud and almost boisterous manner, Mr. Choate 
referred playfully to his "stentorian powers." To his sur- 
prise, however, the counsel took it in dudgeon, and as soon 
as possible rose to protest against the hostile assault. "He 
had not been aware of anything in his mode of address which 
would justify such an epithet; he thought it unusual and un- 
deserved," etc., etc. Going on thus, his voice unconsciously 
soon rose again to its highest key, and rung through the court- 
house as if he were haranguing an army; when Mr. Choate 
half rose, and stretching out his hand with a deprecatory 
gesture, said, in the blandest tones, "One word, may it please 
the Court, only one word, if my brother will allow. I see my 
mistake. I beg leave to retract what I said !" The effect was 
irresistible. The counsel was silent; the Court and spectators 
convulsed with laughter. 

TOO HIGH A COMPLIMENT 

Rufus Choate seldom lost his self-possession. He seemed 
to have the surest mastery of himself in the moment of greatest 
excitement. He was never beside himself with passion or 
anxiety, and seldom disconcerted by any accident or unexpected 
posture of affairs, — so very seldom indeed, that the one or two 
cases where he was slightly so, were never forgotten by his 



RuFus Choatd 119 

friends. One instance occurred in the trial of a question of 
salvage. It was the case of the Missouri, an American vessel, 
stranded on the coast of Sumatra, with specie on board. The 
master of the stranded vessel, one Dixey, and Pitman, the 
master of the vessel that came to her aid, agreed together to 
embezzle the greater part of the specie, and pretend that they 
had been robbed of it by the Malays. Mr. Choate was cross- 
examining Dixey very closely to get out of him the exact time 
and nature of the agreement. The witness said that Pitman 
proposed the scheme, and that he objected to it, among other 
reasons, as dangerous. To which, he said, Pitman made a 
suggestion intended to satisfy him. Mr. Choate insisted on 
knowing what that suggestion was. The witness hesitated at 
giving it. Mr. Choate was peremptory, and the scene became 
interesting. "Well," said Dixey, at last, "if you must know, 
he said that if any trouble came of it we could have Rufus 
Choate to defend us, and he would get us off if we were 
caught with the money in our boots." It was several minutes 
before the Court could go on with the business, as the Judge 
had to rap vigorously for order. 

DELICIOUS IRONY 

In the case of Shaw vs. the Boston & Worcester Railroad, 
which was contested with a good deal of feeling, coming to 
the close of his argument, he said, turning round and facing 
the president of the road, "My friends, the President and 
Directors of the Boston & Worcester Railroad, honorable and 
high-minded men as I know them to be, have probably con- 
sidered that they should not be justified in paying to the 
plaintiff the large sum of money claimed in this case without 
the protection of a judgment in a suit at law; but I have no 
doubt, gentlemen, if you establish the liability, every one of 
them would lay his hand on his heart and say, 'Give her all 
that she asks, and God bless her !' " 



I20 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

A DROLL ARGUMENT 

In an argument before a committee of the Legislature in 
i860, in behalf of the petitioners for a railroad from Salem 
to Maiden, he drew one of those pictures with which he was 
accustomed to amuse, but, also, much more than merely to 
amuse, a jury. One argument in favor of the new road was, 
that it would enable travelers to avoid the East Boston Ferry, 
and to gain in speed. In reply, the beauties of the prospect in 
the harbor, and the pleasure of meeting friends on the boat, 
were referred to, as an offset. 

"The learned though somewhat fanciful gentleman," said 
Mr. Choate, "has eloquently set forth the delight which must 
be felt by all in catching an occasional glimpse of the harbor, 
as they cross in the boat ; as if the people of Danvers, Lynn, or 
Saugus, would care to gaze upon the threadbare beauties of 
Boston Harbor. Unfortunately, too, for the gentleman's case, 
it so happens that these same people have compelled this com- 
pany to arch their boat all over, and wall it up all round, so that 
nothing at all can be seen. Then the delight of meeting and 
shaking hands with an old friend ! Conceive, gentlemen, the 
pastoral, touching, pathetic picture of two Salem gentlemen, 
who have been in the habit of seeing each other a dozen times 
a day for the last twenty-live years, almost rushing into each 
other's arms on board the ferry-boat; — what transport! We 
can only regret that such felicity should be so soon broken up 
by the necessity of running a race against time, or fighting 
with each other for a seat in the cars." 



WINSTON CHURCHILL 

LIGHT ON THE LITERARY LIFE 

N the recommendation of a Concord charitable organi- 
zation, Winston Churchill, the author, recently took a 
man to work on his place up in New Hampshire. Mr. 



o 



William F. Cody 121 

Churchill struggled with the fellow for some time, but found 
that it was hopeless. The only things in which he gained were 
laziness and self-satisfaction. Finally Mr. Churchill dis- 
charged him. The man took his dismissal with a jaunty air 
which was rather nettling. 

'"You seem pleased," observed Mr. Churchill, with a touch 
of sarcasm. 

^'Oh, I ain't worrying," returned the man. "Guess I shan't 
starve." 

"Indeed? I'm not so sure about that. Perhaps you won't 
mind mentioning what you expect to do." 

"No objections," answered the man easily. "If the wust 
comes to the wust I shall take up book-writing. I've dis- 
covered that it don't require such an all-fired smart man as I 
used to think it did." 

WILLIAM F. CODY 

GOOD SECURITY 

C CT)UFFALO BILL" was once exhibiting in Boston, and 
-^ while giving a little reception at his tent at the close of 
the afternoon performance he was approached by a young man 
and his mother. After a moment of embarrassment on the 
lady's part she said: 

"Do you consider that you give a true picture of Western 
life?" 

"We try to, madam," answered Mr. Cody. 

"The people really ride around and shoot in that terrific 
manner, do they?" she continued. 

"Well, yes ; on occasion," he replied, rather more guardedly. 

"I never suspected it," went on the lady in some agitation. 
"Most of the money left me by my husband is invested in the 
West, but I now feel doubtful about allowing any more of it 
to go there." 



122 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

"Is it secured by first-class real estate mortgage?" 

"I believe so." 

"Madam," said Cody with confidence, "do not give your- 
self the least vmeasiness. In all my experience with the West, I 
have never yet seen a first mortgage on real estate riding a 
bucking bronco, shooting up the town, or doing anything 
except grimly drawing its twelve per cent, per annum. I wish 
I owned a million of 'em." 

BUFFALO BILL IN PARIS 

Marshall P. Wilder relates these interesting stories of 
association with Buffalo Bill in the French capital : 

When the "Wild West" Company first went to Paris I was 
one of "Buffalo Bill's" guests for several weeks. The Paris 
shopkeepers and theatre managers had heard of the enormous 
success of the "Wild West" in England, and some of those 
who feared it might divert money which otherwise would find 
its way into their pockets arranged for a powerful clacqne 
on the opening day — not to applaud, but to disturb the per- 
formance, and discourage Cody so that he would leave the city. 

They did not know their man, so they had only their ex- 
pense for their pains. Besides, even a Paris mob, which is said 
to be the meanest in the world, would think twice before 
"demonstrating" much in the face of an arena full of Indians 
and crack shots. The performance went on with little or no 
annoyance; but after it ended a great crowd burst into the 
ring and almost caused a riot. Suddenly another French 
peculiarity was manifested: a single gendarme worked his 
way to the centre of the crowd and fired a bullet from his 
pistol. In an instant the multitude dispersed. The worst of, 
the French people respect the majesty of the law — when it 
is backed by firearms. 

I soon duplicated, as well as I could, the Colonel's scout 
costume, which he alwavs wore on the streets as an advertise- 



William F. Cody 123 

ment. I, too, appeared in buckskin trousers, fringed leggins^ 
an animated mushroom ; but the Parisians were quick to note 
the resemblance and to dub me "le petit Buffalo Bill." 

One morning the Colonel went out to be shaved and asked 
me to accompany him. As we both were dressed in "Wild 
West" costume, to which the Colonel had added a pair of 
pistols and a knife, a large crowd followed and lingered about 
the shop we entered. A Parisian shopkeeper generally has his 
wife with him, to act as cashier and general manager, and the 
barber to whom we had gone had a chic and attractive wife, 
regarding whom Cody and I exchanged admiring remarks in 
English, at the risk of the barber understanding us and becom- 
ing disagreeable. 

Then Cody seated himself and asked the barber: "Do 
you speak English?" 

"Non, m'sicur,^' with apologetic eyebrows and shoulders. 

The Colonel thrust his hands into his long brown curls, 
and said : "I want you to put a little oil on my hair and rub 
it in; com pre f" 

"Old, oui, m'sieiir." 

Then Bill asked: "Marsh, what is French for shave?" 

My French was as limited as his, so I replied : "Racoo" I 
guess." 

"And I want you to racoo my face." 

"Old, Old, m'sieur." 

The barber shaved his customer; but he had mistaken the 
sign-language of Cody's first order, for he raised a pair of 
shears to clip the Colonel's long hair — one of his most treas- 
ured possessions and features — in fact, like Samson of Bibli- 
cal fame, his hair was the secret of his strength. Just as the 
barber lifted a lock and poised the shears for the first snip. 
Bill saw the situation in a mirror. With a cow-boy yell that 
would have made a Comanche Indian green with envy, he 
sprang from the chair to save his hair. 



124 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

The barber, who had been working with bated breath, 
appalled by the savage appearance of his customer, dropped 
his shears, and his knees shook, as, with chattering teeth, he 
begged for mercy. The wife's screams added to the confusion, 
the lingering crowd pressed in, and was reinforced by a 
gendarme, who began a rapid fire of questions in excited 
French. No explanations that were offered in either tongue 
were comprehended by the parties who spoke the other lan- 
guage, and as the barber seemed consumed with a desire to 
get rid of us we hurried away in a cab, the barber's wife fol- 
lowing us with imprecations — and she so pretty, too ! 

One day while the show was in Paris, we saw a distin- 
guished-looking man pressing against the rope stretched around 
Colonel Cody's tent. When he found opportunity he said, in 
excellent English : "Pardon me. Colonel Cody ; but I should 
like to speak to you. I have many friends in your great coun- 
try — a country for which I have a sincere admiration." 

"I am very glad to see you," the Colonel replied wearily — 
he had heard this same speech so often ! 

"My name is Bartholdi," modestly replied the sculptor, 
whose magnificent statue, "Liberty Enlightening the World," 
endeared him to Americans. From the moment he made him- 
self known to Cody he "owned the show." 

ADVENTURE WITH A HIGHWAYMAN 
While Cody was still a boy he was riding on the Pony 
Express Line. One day, as he flew around a bend in a nar- 
row pass, he confronted a huge revolver in the grasp of a man 
who manifestly meant business, and whose salutation was : 
"Halt! Throw up your hands!" 

Most people do, and Will's hands were raised reluctantly. 
The highwayman advanced, saying, not unkindly : 

"I don't want to hurt you, boy, but I do want them bags." 
Money packages were in the saddlebags, and Will was 



WILI.IAM F. Cody 125 

minded to save them if he could, so, as the outlaw reached 
for the booty. Will touched the pony with his foot, and the 
upshot was satisfactory to an unexpected degree. The plunge 
upset the robber, and as the pony swept over him he got d 
vicious blow from one hoof. Will wheeled for a revolver 
duel, but the foe was prostrate, stunned, and bleeding at the 
head. Will disarmed the fellow, and pinioned his arms be- 
hind him, and then tied up his broken head. Will surmised 
that the prisoner must have a horse hidden near by, and a 
bit of a search disclosed it. When he returned with the animal, 
its owner had opened his eyes and was beginning to remem- 
ber a few things. Will helped him to mount, and out of pure 
kindness tied him on ; then he straddled his own pony, and 
towed the dismal outfit along with him. 

It was the first time that he had been behind on his run, 
but by way of excuse he offered to the station agent a broken- 
headed and dejected gentleman tied to a horse's back; and the 
agent with a grin, locked the excuse up for future reference. 

TOO QUICK FOR THE INDIAN 

One day the station boss of the Pony Express Line 
hailed Cody with the information : 

"There's Injun sign about; so keep your eyes open." 

"I'm on the watch, boss," was Will's answer, as he ex- 
changed ponies and dashed away. 

The trail ran through a grim wild. It was darkened by 
mountains, overhung with cliffs, and fringed with monster 
pines. The young rider's every sense had been sharpened by 
frontier dangers. Each dusky rock and tree was scanned for 
signs of lurking foes as he clattered down the twilight track. 

One large bowlder lay in plain view far down the valley, 
and for a second he saw a dark object appear above it. 

He kept his course until within rifle-shot, and then sud- 
denly swerved away in an oblique line. The ambush had 



126 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

failed, and a puff of smoke issued from behind the bowlder. 
Two braves, in gorgeous war paint, sprang up, and at the 
same time a score of whooping Indians rode out of timber 
on the other side of the valley. 

Before Will the mountains sloped to a narrow pass ; could 
he reach that he would be comparatively safe. The Indians 
at the bowlder were unmounted, and though they were fleet 
of foot, he easily left them behind. The mounted reds were 
those to be feared, and the chief rode a very fleet pony. As 
they neared the pass, Will saw that it was life against life. He 
drew his revolver, and the chief, for his part, fitted an arrow to 
his bow. 

Will was a shade the quicker. His revolver cracked, and 
the warrior pitched dead from his saddle. His fall was a 
signal for a shower of arrows, one of which wounded' the 
pony slightly ; but the station was reached on time. 

A STAGE DRIVER'S EXPERIENCE 

While Cody was driving stage between the Mississippi 
and Rocky Mountains he was taken aside by the agent one day, 
and advised that a small fortune was going by the coach that 
trip, and extra vigilance was urged, as the existence of the 
treasure might have become known. 

"I'll do the best I can," said Will ; and he had scarcely 
driven away when he suspected the two ill-favored passengers 
he carried. The sudden calling away of the conductor, where- 
by he was left alone, was a suspicious circumstance. He 
properly decided that it would be wiser for him to hold up 
his passengers than to let them hold up him, and he pro- 
ceeded to take time by the forelock. He stopped the coach, 
jumped down, and examined the harness as if something was 
wrong; then he stepped to the coach door and asked his 
passengers to hand him a rope that was inside. As they com- 
plied, they looked into the barrels of two cocked revolvers. 



William F. Cody 127 

"Hands up!" said Will. 

"What's the matter with you?" demanded one of the pair, 
as their arms were raised. 

"Thought I'd come in first — that's all," was the answer. 

The other was not without appreciation of humor. 

"You're a cute one, youngster," said he, "but you'll find 
more'n your match down the road, or I miss my guess." 

"I'll look after that when I get to it," said Will. "Will 
you oblige me by tying your friend's hands? Thank you. 
Now throw out your guns. That all ? All right. Let me see 
your hands." 

When both outlaws had been securely trussed up and 
proved to be disarmed, the journey was resumed. The re- 
mark dropped by one of the pair was evidence that they were 
part of the gang. Young Cody knew he must reach the relay 
station before the attack. If he could do that, he had a plan 
for farther on. 

The relay station was not far away, and was safely reached. 
The prisoners were turned over to the stock-tenders, and then 
Will disposed of the treasure against future molestation. He 
cut open one of the cushions of the coach, taking out part of 
the filling, and in the cavity thus made stored everything of 
value, including his own watch and pocketbook ; then the fill- 
ing was replaced and the hole smoothed to a natural ap- 
pearance. 

If there were more in the gang, he looked for them at the 
ford where the Indians had sought to cut him off, and he was 
not disappointed. As he drew near the growth of willows 
that bordered the road, half a dozen men with menacing rifles 
stepped out. 

"Halt, or you're a dead man !" was the conventional saluta- 
tion, in this case graciously received. 

"Well, what do you want?" asked Will. 

"The boodle you carry. Fork it over !" 



128 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

"Gentlemen," said Will, smiling, "this is a case where it 
takes a thief to catch a thief." 

"What's that?" cried one of the outlaws, his feelings out- 
raged by the frank description. 

"Not that I'm the thief," continued Will, "but your pals 
were one too many for you this time." 

"Did they rob you?" howled the gang in chorus, shocked 
by such depravity on the part of their comrades, 

"If there's anything left in the coach worth having, don't 
hesitate to take it," offered Will, pleasantly. 

"Where's your strong-box?" demanded the outlaws, loathe 
to believe there was no honor among thieves. 

Will drew it forth and exposed its melancholy emptiness. 
The profanity that ensued was positively shocking. 

"Where did they hold you up?" demanded the leader of 
the gang. 

"Eight or nine miles back. You will find some straw in the 
road, you can have that too." 

"Were there horses to meet them ?" 

"On foot the last I saw them." 

"Then we can catch 'em, boys," shouted the leader, hopes 
upspringing in his breast. "Come, let's be ofif !" 

They started for the willows on the jump, and presently re- 
turned spurring their horses. 

"Give them my regards !" shouted Will, but only the thud ! 
thud ! of horse hoofs answered him. Retribution was sweeping 
like a hawk upon its prey. 

Cody pushed along to the end of his run, and handed over 
his trust undisturbed. Fearing that his ruse might have been 
discovered he put the "extra vigilance" urged by the agent 
into the return trip, but the trail was deserted. He picked up 
the prisoners at the relay station and carried them to Fort 
Kearney. If their companions were to discover the trick played 
upon them, they would have demanded his life as a sacrifice. 



William F. Cody 129 

HOW HE CAME TO BE BUFFALO BILL 
While the Kansas Pacific Railroad was being built Cody 
had a contract to furnish the men with twelve buffaloes a 
day. One day he galloped out toward a large herd of buffaloes 
and met with five officers from the neighboring fort who were 
waiting for the buffaloes to come up. They were recent ar- 
rivals in that part of the country, and their shoulder-straps 
indicated that one was a captain and the others were lieuten- 
ants. They did not know Cody. They saw nothing but a 
good-looking young fellow, in the dress of a working man, 
astride a not handsome horse, which had a blind bridle and no 
saddle. It was not a formidable-looking hunting outfit, and 
the captain was disposed to be a trifle patronizing. 

"Hallo !" he called out. "I see you're after the same game 
we are." 

"Yes, sir," returned Will. "Our camp's out of fresh meat." 
The officer ran a critical eye over Brigham. "Do you ex- 
pect to run down a buffalo with a horse like that ?" said he. 
"Why," said Will, innocently, "are buffaloes pretty speedy." 
"Speedy? It takes a fast horse to overhaul those animals 
on the open prairie." 

"Does it ?" said Will ; and the officer did not see the twinkle 
in his eye. Nothing amuses a man more than to be instructed 
on a matter that he knows thoroughly, and concerning which his 
instructor knows nothing. Probably every one of the officers 
had yet to shoot his first buffalo. 

"Come along with us," off'ered the captain, graciously. 
"We're going to kill a few for sport, and all we care for are 
the tongues and a chunk of the tenderloin; you can have the 
rest." 

"Thank you," said Well. "I'll follow along. " 
There were eleven buffaloes in the herd, and the officers 
started after them as if they had a sure thing on the entire 
number. Will noticed that the game was pointed toward a 



130 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

creek, and understanding "the nature of the beast," started for 
the water, to head them off. 

As the herd went past him, with the military quintet five 
hundred yards in the rear, he gave Brigham's bHnd bridle a 
twitch, and in a few jumps the trained hunter was at the side 
of the rear buffalo ; Lucretia Borgia spoke, and the buffalo fell 
dead without even a bridle signal, Brigham was promptly at 
the side of the next buffalo, not ten feet away, and this, too, 
fell at the first shot. The manoeuvre was repeated until the 
last buffalo went down. Twelve shots had been fired; then 
Brigham, who never wasted his strength, stopped. The officers 
had not had even a shot at the game. Astonishment was writ- 
ten on their faces as they rode up. 

"Gentlemen," said Will, courteously, as he dismounted. 
"Allow me to present you with eleven tongues and as much of 
the tenderloin as you wish." 

"By Jove !" exclaimed the captain. "I never saw anything 
like that before. Who are you, anyway?" 

"Bill Cody's my name." 

"Well, Bill Cody, you know how to kill buffalo, and that 
horse of yours has some good running points after all." 

"One or two," smiled Will. 

Captain Graham — as his name proved to be — and his com- 
panions, were a trifle sore over missing even the opportunity 
of a shot, but they professed to be more than repaid for their 
disappointment by witnessing a feat they had not supposed pos- 
sible in a white man — hunting buffalo without a saddle, bridle, 
or rein. Will explained that Brigham knew more about the 
business than most two-legged hunters. All the rider was ex- 
pected to do was to shoot the buffalo. If the first shot failed, 
Brigham allowed another; if this, too, failed, Brigham lost 
patience, and was as likely as not to drop the matter there. 

It was this episode that fastened the name of "Buffalo 
Bill" upon Will Cody, and learning of it, the friends of Billy 



William F. Cody 131 

Comstock, chief of scouts of Fort Wallace, filed a protest, 
Comstock, they said, was Cody's superior as a buffalo hunter. 
So a match was arranged to determine whether it should be 
"Buft'alo Bill" Cody or "Buffalo Bill" Comstock. 

The hunting ground was fixed near Sheridan, Kansas, and 
quite a crowd of spectators was attracted by the news of the 
contest. Officers, soldiers, plainsmen, and railroad men took 
a day off to see the sport, and one excursion party, including 
many ladies, among them Louise, came up from St. Louis. 

Referees were appointed to follow each man and keep a 
tally of the buffaloes slain. Comstock was mounted on his 
favorite horse, and carried a Henry rifle of large calibre. 
Brigham and Lucretia went with Will. The two hunters rode 
side by side until the first herd was sighted and the word 
given, when oft" they dashed to the attack, separating to the 
right and left. In this first trial Will killed thirty-eight and 
Comstock twenty-three. They had ridden miles, and the car- 
cases of the dead buffaloes were strung all over the prairie. 
Luncheon was served at noon, and scarcely was it over when 
another herd was sighted, composed mainly of cows with their 
calves. The damage to this herd was eighteen and fourteen, 
in favor of Cody. 

In those days the prairies were alive with buffaloes, and 
a third herd appeared before the rifle barrels were cooled. In 
order to give Brigham a share of the glory, Will pulled off 
saddle and bridle, and advanced bareback to the slaughter. 

That closed the contest. Score, sixty-nine to forty-eight. 
Comstock's friends surrendered, and Cody was dubbed "Cham- 
pion Buffalo Hunter of the Plains." 

A BUFFALO IN CAMP 

In the spring of 1869, the Fifth Cavalry, ordered to the 
Department of the Platte, took up the line of march for Fort 
McPherson, Nebraska. 



132 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

It was a large command, including seventy-six wagons for 
stores, ambulance wagons, and pack-mules. Those chief in 
authority were Colonel Royal (afterwards superseded by Gen- 
eral Carr), Major Brown, and Captain Sweetman. 

The average distance covered daily was only ten miles, and 
when the troops reached the Solomon River there was no fresh 
meat in camp. Colonel Royal asked Will to look up some 
game. 

"All right, sir," said Will. "Will you send a couple of 
wagons along to fetch in the meat?" 

"We'll send for the game, Cody, when there's some game 
to send for," curtly replied the Colonel. 

That settled the matter, surely, and Will rode away, a trifle 
ruffled in temper. 

He was not long in rounding up a herd of seven buffaloes, 
and he headed them straight for camp. As he drew near the 
lines, he rode alongside his game, and brought down one 
after another, until only an old bull remained. This he killed 
in almost the centre of the camp. 

The charge of the buffaloes had nearly stampeded the 
picketed horses, and Colonel Royal, who, with the other 
officers, had watched the hunt, demanded, somewhat angrily : 

"What does this mean, Cody?" 

"Why," said Will, "I thought, sir, I'd save you the trouble 
of sending after the game." 

The Colonel smiled, though perhaps the other officers en- 
joyed the joke more than he. 

ROBERT COLLYER 

THE IRISHMAN HAD HIS DOUBTS 

TT IS well known, Rev. Robert Collyer, of New York City, 

was a blacksmith in Germantown, Pennsylvania, before 

he became a preacher. Once, when there was little work at 



George B. Cortelyou 133 

hand, he asked a builder in his neighborhood for something 
to do. The latter replied that all he could give him would be 
a job carrying a hod. 

"I'm your man," replied the blacksmith, promptly, and he 
was soon at work. 

Years afterwards, while an imposing edifice was being 
erected in Chicago for Dr. Collyer, he was standing among 
the beams, watching the progress of the work, when an Irish- 
man came along with a hod of bricks. Dr. Collyer spoke to 
him and he paused. 

"This is har-rd work, soir," said the Irishman. 

"I know that well," answered Dr. Collyer; "in my day. 
I've carried the hod myself." 

"The Irishman stared at me an instant," said Dr. Collyer, 
in relating the incident, "and then went on his way mumbling 
something that sounded suspiciously like, 'I wouldn't 'a' be- 
laved the parson was such a liar.' " 

GEORGE B. CORTELYOU 

THE TWENTIETH CENTURY PRODIGAL 

/CHAIRMAN CORTELYOU, of the Republican National 
^-^ Committee, during the last Presidential campaign, was 
approached one day by a minor and unimportant New York 
State politician who, though formerly a Republican, at the past 
two Presidential elections has voted the Democratic ticket. The 
man explained at length that he had seen the exceeding error 
of his ways and was now once more ready to vote and work 
for the party of his first love, at the same time intimating that 
a congenial job at headquarters during the campaign would be 
acceptable. 

"Mr. Blank," said Mr. Cortelyou firmly, "I'm sorry, but 
I shall have to disappoint you. We're glad you're back, but 
nowadays the wise prodigal fetches along his own calf." 



134 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 
GEORGE A. CUSTER 

A FRIENDLY WORD 

GEORGE A. CUSTER and Thomas L. Rosser were chums 
and classmates at West Point Mihtary Academy, They 
left that institution in iS6i, the one to enter the Union and the 
other the Confederate army. Both proved their skill and valor 
on a score of battlefields. The end of the v^ar, however, 
found Rosser penniless, with a wife and children dependent 
upon him for support. There were no openings in the South, 
but employment must be had. He made his way to the North- 
west, and secured work on the Northern Pacific Railway, then 
in course of construction. One day, General Custer, riding- 
along the line of the road, noticed a section boss whose face 
seemed strangely familiar. 

"Isn't your name Rosser?" he finally asked. 

"Why, Custer, how are you?" said Rosser, looking up from 
his work. 

Thus they met for the first time since leaving West Point. 
Custer called the next day on the chief engineer of the road. 

"There is a man namer Rosser," said he, "under you as a 
construction boss." 

"Yes, and one of the best I ever had. Anything wrong 
about him ?" 

"No," replied Custer, "but he was at W>st Point with me, 
and afterwards became a major-general of cavalry under the 
Confederacy. Can't you give him something better than the 
work he is doing?" 

"Why, I have been looking for just such a man," said the 
engineer. 

And so Rosser, through Custer's kindly offices, became 
second in command of the engineer corps. A few months later 
he was promoted to be chief engineer. He made good use of 
the opportunities his position afiforded for profitable invest- 




CHARLES SUMNER ELIHU ROOT 

JAMES G. BLAINE 
ANDREW CARNEGIE JOSEPH G. CANNON 



Chauncey M. Depew 137 

ment, and to-day is accounted one of the wealthy men of his 
native Virginia. 

HENRY G. DAVIS 

HE KNEW THINGS 

EX-SENATOR HENRY G. DAVIS, of West Virginia, 
the candidate of the Democratic party for the office of 
Vice-President in 1904, began his railroad career as a conduc- 
tor on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. One day John M. 
Garrett, president of the road, and a party of friends were on 
Davis' train, making an inspection of what is known as the 
"second division ;" that is, from Martinsburg to Cumberland. 
Garrett asked the conductor some questions about the villages 
and the country through which the train passed. The an- 
swers surprised the great railroad man. Davis not only told 
all about the villages, but also made suggestions as to how the 
traffic of the road could be increased by reaching into the tim- 
ber and mining lands near, and how expenses could be cut 
down by changes in the freight schedules. He grew eloquent 
on the subject and showed that he had given it thorough study. 

Finally Garrett said : "Is there anything you don't know 
about the road and the country through which it passes ?" 

"I don't think there is," Davis modestly replied. Garrett 
laughed, but a week later Davis got his first promotion, and, 
within a few years, he was an officer of the road. His knowl- 
edge of West Virginia's resources made him a millionaire later. 

CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW 

THE FIRST SPEAKER HAD SAID ENOUGH 

AT a public dinner given in Washington, at which Senator 
■^-^ Chauncy M. Depew was present, one of the post-pran- 
dial speakers expressed himself in somewhat fulsome terms re- 



138 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

garding the distinguished guest. At the termination of his 
speech, the Senator, in spite of hints from friends, dechned to 
respond, and retained his seat. An awkward pause ensued. 

"For goodness sake, say something," whispered Mr. De- 
pew's neighbor. 

Thereupon the Senator reluctantly rose, coughed, adjusted 
his cuffs, toyed with eyeglasses, and said : 

"Life is worth living only for those who can, on occasions, 
let their convictions overcome their modesty. In the belief, 
therefore, that the gentleman who has just been talking to 
you has tried to do me justice, but has fallen short in the treat- 
ment of his subject, I beg leave to resume my chair." 

DEPEWS SUBTLE ARGUMENT 

One of the first cases which Chauncey Depew had after 
being admitted to the bar was a civil suit involving a somewhat 
complicated question of inheritance. 

In no way daunted, young Chauncey tackled it, looked up 
authorities all the way back to Julius Caesar, and prepared an 
argument of a few hundred pages which seemed to him more 
than unanswerable. His only fear was that it might be beyond 
the comprehension of the Court. 

When the time came the young man rose and plunged in 
boldly. The Judge seemed interested, and Chauncey took 
further courage. But at the end of an hour and a half, in the 
midst of the most intricate part of his plea, he was pained to 
see what he thought was a lack of attention on the part of the 
Court, It was just as he expected: the Judge was unable to 
appreciate the nice points of his argument. 

He paused, hesitated, and then said: "Your Honor, I beg 
pardon, but do you follow me?" 

"I have so far," answered the Judge, shifting about in his 
chair; "but I'll say frankly that if I thought I could find my 
way back I'd quit right here." 



George Dewey 139 

HOW PLATT STOPPED THE TRAIN 

Senator Depew sometimes tells how, on at least one occa- 
sion, he was induced by a well-turned joke to render a service 
which the exigencies of business might otherwise have led him 
to deny. 

The incident occurred during Mr. Depew's occupancy of 
the office of President of the New York Central Company. 
One afternoon the future Senator received a telegram from 
a small town near Buffalo, reading as follows : 

"Kindly have Empire State Express stop here to take on 
Mrs. Piatt and Me Too." 

Although it was entirely unusual and, in fact, opposed to 
the policy of the company to stop a limited express at an un- 
important station, yet Mr. Depew issued a special order. Not 
long afterward Mr. Depew in conversation with Mr. Piatt 
alluded to the telegram, saying with a chuckle that had the 
telegram come signed merely "T, C. Piatt" he was afraid the 
Senator would have been forced to take another train. 

"Just so," added Mr. Piatt. "I realized that a joke would 
catch you where other means would fail ; so I sent the telegram 
signed in that way, as I particularly wished to make that 
train." 

GEORGE DEWEY 

THE CAPTURE OF DEWEY 

ADMIRAL DEWEY'S peace of mind has been greatly dis- 
-^~^ turbed lately by "sight-seeing automobiles," each carry- 
ing thirty or forty people, which stop in front of his home three 
times a day, in an effort to get a glimpse of the Admiral or Mrs. 
Dewey, Even more annoying than the stare of forty pairs of 
eyes is the witticism of the guide, who shouts through the 
megaphone in a voice that can be heard a block away : 

"The red house to your right — given by the American peo- 



I40 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

pie to Admiral Dewey, who destroyed the Spanish fleet in 
Manila Bay and came to Washington to be captured by a lone 
woman," 

WHEN DEWEY WENT A FISHING WITH JOSEPH JEFFERSON 

While Admiral Dewey was at Palm Beach Jefferson took 
him up to the inlet in his launch, and, as was customary, was 
stationed in a small skiff in a favorable spot. According to 
Jefferson, silence and solitude are conditions essential to suc- 
cessful fishing, and it was on this account that the Admiral 
was left alone in the skiff, the others of the party stationing 
themselves at a little distance. 

Now it is affirmed that however successful Admiral Dewey 
may be in other respects, he is not much of a fisherman ; but 
he is an apt pupil, and follows instructions to the letter. 

Before leaving him the attendant had baited his hook with 
a live frog. "The best bait in the world," he said encourag- 
ingly. Being left to himself the Admiral's thoughts concen- 
trated themselves upon his line and the frog, and though a 
man of war he is tender-hearted. There was something about 
the thought of the sharp, steel hook imbedded in the clammy 
flesh that affected his nerves like the squeaking of a car-wheel. 
Probably it was his gazing fixedly at the cork floating upon 
the surface of the water that kept his thoughts upon the frog's 
sufferings. 

Why couldn't they have given him a piece of dead bait? 
Ah, was that a bite? Filled with the excitement that is born 
of long waiting for a certain thing to happen, Dewey momen- 
tarily forgot about the frog and w^aited for another movement 
of the line. It did not come. 

An hour went by, and then, from Jefferson : "Well, what 
luck?" 

"None at all," replied the Admiral. 
"What? You haven't caught any ?" 



Georgic Dewdy 141 

"Not so much as a bite." 

Jefferson threw up his hands in amazement. For years 
he had known this to be the best fishing spot around Palm 
Beach. It was where he had made his own greatest catches. 
He looked about to reassure himself, and his glance lighted 
upon an object that caused him to burst into an uncontrolable 
fit of laughter. 

"What's the joke?" asked the Admiral testily. 

"Ha ! ha ! ha !" was all the actor could answer. 

"What ails the man ?" demanded Dewey. 

"Ho ! ho ! ho !" Jefferson held his sides. Then he choked. 
Then he found his voice. "You didn't get a bite?" 

"That's what I said." 

"Well — ho, ho, ho! no wonder," said Jefferson between 
bursts of laughter. "Why — ho, ho, ho ! — your bait is asleep 
on that log over there." 

And sure enough, there was the frog, just awakened by 
Jefferson's laughter, blinking his great eyes at them. 

Admiral Dewey made Jefferson swear a great oath that 
he would never tell the story, but it was too good to keep, and 
at the hotelthat night there was considerable merriment over 
the matter. 

THE STORY OF THE BATTLE OF MANILA 

An eye-witness who was on Admiral Dewey's flagship tells 
the graphic story which follows of the naval victory in Manila 
Bay, which made the name of George Dewey immortal : 

"It was just eight o'clock, a bright moonlight night, but 
the flagship passed Corregidor Island without a sign being 
given that the Spaniards were aware of its approach. Not 
until the flagship was a mile beyond Corregidor was a gun fired, 
then one heavy shot went screaming over the Raleigh and the 
Olympia followed by a second, which fell further astern. 
The Raleigh, the Concord and the Boston replied. The Con- 



142 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

cord's shells exploding apparently exactly inside the shore 
battery, which fired no more. Our squadron slowed down 
to barely steerage way, and the men were allowed to sleep 
alongside their guns. Commodore Dewey had timed our ar- 
rival so that we were within five miles of the City of Manila 
at daybreak. We then sighted the Spanish squadron, Rear 
Admiral Montojo commanding, off Cavite. Here the Span- 
iards had a well-equipped navy yard called Cavite arsenal. 
Admiral Montojo's flag was flying on the 3,500 ton protected 
cruiser Reina Christina. The protected cruiser Castilla, of 
3,200 tons, was moored ahead and astern to the port battery, 
and to seaward were the cruisers Don Juan d'c Austria, Don 
Antonio de Ulloa, Isia de Cuba, Isla dc Luzon, Quiros, Mar- 
quis del Onero, and General Lezox. These ships and the flag- 
ships remained under way during most of the action. 

"With the United States flag flying at all their mastheads, 
our ships moved to the attack in line ahead, with a speed of 
eight knots, first passing in front of Manila, where the action 
was begun by three batteries mounting guns powerful enough 
to send a shell over us at a distance of five miles. The Con- 
cord's guns boomed out a reply to these batteries with two 
shots. No more were fired, because Admiral Dewey could 
not engage with these batteries without sending death and 
destruction into the crowded city. As we neared Cavite two 
very powerful submarine mines were exploded ahead of the 
flagship. This was at six minutes past five o'clock. The 
Spaniards had misjudged our position. Immense volumes of 
water were thrown high in air by these destroyers, but no 
harm was done to our ships. 

DASHING AHEAD IN SPITE OF TORPEDOES 

"Admiral Dewey had fought with Farragut at New Or- 
leans and Mobile Bay, where he had his first experience with 
torpedoes. Not knowing how many more mines there might 



George; Dewe;y 143 

be ahead, he still kept on without faltering. No other mines 
exploded, however, and it is believed that the Spaniards had 
only these two in place. 

"Only a few minutes later the shore battery at Cavite 
Point sent over the flagship a shot that nearly hit the battery 
at Manila, but soon the guns got a better range, and the shells 
began to strike near us or burst close aboard from both the 
batteries and the Spanish vessels. The heat was intense. Men 
stripped ofif all clothing except their trousers. 

"As the Olympia drew nearer, all was silent on board as 
if the ship had been empty, except for the whirr of blowers and 
the throb of the engines. Suddenly a shell burst directly over 
us. From the boatswain's mate at the after 5-incli gun came 
a hoarse cry. 'Remember the Maine!' arose from the throats 
of five hundred men at the guns. The watchword reverberated 
through turrets and firerooms, and was caught up wherever 
seaman or fireman stood at his post. 

" 'Remember the Maine!' had rung out for defiance and 
revenge. Its utterance seemed unpremeditated, but was evi- 
dently in every man's mind, and, now that the moment had 
come to make adequate reply to the murder of the Maine's 
crew, every man shouted what was in his heart. 

"The Olympia was now ready to begin the fight. Admiral 
Dewey, his chief of staff, Commander Lamberton, and aide 
and myself, with Executive Officer Lieutenant Rees and Navi- 
gator Lieutenant Calkins, who conned ship most admirably, 
were on the forward bridge. Captain Gridley was in the con- 
ning tower, as it was thought unsafe to risk losing all the 
senior officers by one shell. 'You may fire when ready. Grid- 
ley,' said the Admiral, and at nineteen minutes of six o'clock, 
at a distance of 5,500 yards, the starboard 8-inch gun in the 
forward turret roared forth a compliment to the Spanish forts. 
Presently similar guns from the Baltimore and the Boston sent 
250-pound shells hurling toward the Castilla and the Reina 



144 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

Christina for accuracy. The Spaniards seemed encouraged 
to fire faster, knowing exactly our distance, while we had to 
guess theirs. Their ship and shore guns were making things 
hot for us. 

SHOWERS OF FRAGMENTS 

"The piercing scream of shot was varied often by the 
bursting of time fuse shells, fragments of which would lash 
the water like shrapnel or cut our hull and rigging. One large 
shell that was coming straight at the Olympia's forward bridge 
fortunately fell within less than one hundred feet away. One 
fragment cut the rigging directly over the heads of Lamber- 
ton, Rees and myself. Another struck the bridge gratings in 
line with it. A third passed just under Dewey and gouged a 
hole in the deck. Incidents like these were plentiful. 

"Our men naturally chafed at being exposed without re- 
turning fire from all our guns, but laughed at danger and 
chatted good humoredly. A few nervous fellows could not 
help dodging mechanically when shells would burst right 
over them or close aboard, or would strike the water and 
passed overhead, with the peculiar spluttering roar made by 
a tumbling rifled projectile. Still the flagship promptly steered 
for the very centre of the Spanish line, and, as our other ships 
Avere astern, the Olympia received most of the Spaniards' 
attention. 

"Owing to our deep draught Dewey felt constrained to 
change his course at a distance of four thousand yards and 
run parallel to the Spanish column. 'Open with all guns,' he 
said, and the ship brought her port broadside bearing. The 
roar of all the flagships's 5-inch rapid firers was followed by 
a deep diapason of her after turret 8-inchers. Soon our other 
vessels were equally hard at work, and we could see that our 
shells were making Cavite harbor hotter for the Spaniards 
than they had made the approach for us. 



George Dewey 145 

"Protected by their shore batteries and made safe from 
close attack by shallow water, the Spaniards were in a strong 
position. They put up a gallant fight. The Spanish ships 
were sailing back and forth behind the Castilla, and their fire, 
too, was hot. One shot struck the Baltimore and passed clean 
through her, fortunately hitting no one. Another ripped up 
her main deck, disabled a six-inch gun, and exploded a box of 
three pounder ammunition, wounding eight men. 

"The Olympia was struck abreast the gun in the ward room 
by a shell which burst outside, doing little damage. The signal 
halyards were cut from Lieutenant Brumby's hands on the 
after bridge. A shell entered the Boston's port quarter and 
burst in Ensign Dodridge's state-room, starting a hot fire, and 
fire was also caused by a shell which burst in the port ham- 
mock netting. Both these fires were quickly put out. Another 
shell passed through the Boston's fore mast just in front of 
Captain Wiles, who at the time was standing on the bridge. 

"After making four runs along the Spanish line, finding 
the charting correct. Lieutenant Calkins, the Olympia's navi- 
gator, told the Commodore he believed he could take the ship 
nearer the enemy, with lead going to watch the depth of 
water. The flagship started over the course for the fifth time, 
running within two hundred yards of the Spanish vessels. At 
this range even six-pounders were effective, and the storm 
of shells poured upon the unfortunate Spaniards began to show 
marked results. Three of the enemy's vessels were seen burn- 
ing and their fire slackened. 

STOPPING THE BATTLE FOR BREAKFAST 

"On finishing this run, Admiral Dewey decided to give the 
men breakfast, as they had been at the guns two hours with 
only one cup of coffee to sustain them. Action ceased tempor- 
arily at twenty-five minutes of eight o'clock, the other ship 
passing the flagship and the men cheering lustily. Our ships 



146 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

remained beyond range of the enemy's guns until ten min- 
utes of eleven o'clock, when the signal for close action went 
up. The Baltimore had the place of honor in the lead, with the 
flagship following and the other ships as they were in the 
earlier engagement. 

"The Baltimore began firing at the Spanish ships and bat- 
teries at sixteen minutes after eleven o'clock, making a series 
of hits as if at target practice. The Spaniards replied very 
slowly, and the Admiral signalled the Raleigh, the Boston the 
Concord and the Petrel to go into the inner harbor and de- 
stroy all the enemy's ships. By her light draught the little 
Petrel was enabled to move within one thousand yards. Here, 
firing swiftly but accurately, she commanded everything still 
flying the Spanish flag. Other ships were also doing their 
whole duty, and soon not one red and yellow ensign remained 
aloft, except on a battery up the coast. 

"The Spanish flagship and the Castilla had long been burn- 
ing fiercely, and the last vessel to be abandoned was the Don 
Antonio de Ulloa, which lurched over and sank. 

"Then the Spanish flag on the Arsenal staff was hauled 
down, and at half-past twelve o'clock a white flag was hoisted 
there. Signal was made to the Petrel to destroy all the vessels 
in the inner harbor, and Lieutenant Hughes, with an armed 
boat's crew, set fire to the Don Juan de Austria, the Marquis 
del Duero, the Isla de Cuba and the Correo. The large trans- 
port Manila, and many tugboats and small craft fell into our 
hands. 

" 'Capture and destroy Spanish squadron,' were Dewey's 
orders. Never were instructions more effectually carried out. 
Within seven hours after arriving on the scene of action noth- 
ing remained to be done. The Admiral closed the day by 
anchoring off the city of Manila, and sending word to the 
Governor General that if a shot was fired from the citv at the 
fleet he would lay Manila in ashes." 



Thomas A. Edison 147 

THOMAS A. EDISON 

HIS FIRST CHECK 

THOMAS A. EDISON not long ago told a friend the story 
of his first acquaintance with any big sum of money. It 
was when he was struggling with his earlier inventions, and 
he had about as clear an idea of the value of a bank check as 
the man in the moon. He had finally sold his patent on the 
gold and stock indicator to the Western Union Telegraph 
Company and had called at its office to close the deal. After a 
few preliminaries he was given a check for forty thousand dol- 
lars. He eyed it curiously and appeared to be puzzled what to 
do with it. Observing his perplexity, General Lefferts, then 
president of the Western Union, told him that, if he would go 
to the Bank of America in Wall Street, he could get the cash 
on the check. 

"So I started," said Edison, "after carefully folding up the 
check, and went toward Wall Street. So uncertain was I in 
regard to that way of doing business that I thought, while on 
the way, that, if any man should come up to me and offer me 
two crisp thousand-dollar bills for that piece of paper, I would 
give him the check very quickly." 

On his arrival at the Bank of America, he half-tremblingly 
shoved his check out to the cashier. The latter scrutinized it 
closely, gave him a piercing glance, and said something which 
Edison, being hard of hearing, failed to understand. That w^as 
enough. He was fully convinced that his check was not worth 
forty thousand dollars, and again thought, as he rushed out of 
the bank, that any man who would give him two thousand 
dollars for it could have it. He hurried back to the office of the 
Western Union and said he could not get any money. A clerk 
was sent to the bank with him to identify him. 

"This man," said the clerk, "is Mr. Thomas A. Edison, to 
whose order the check is drawn." 



148 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

"Why, certainly, Mr. Edison," said the cashier; "how 
would you like your money, — in what shape ?" 

"Oh, any way to suit the bank ; it doesn't make any differ- 
ence to me so long as I get the money," 

Edison was given forty thousand dollars in small bills. 
After dividing the roll into two wads of twenty thousand dol- 
lars each, he stuffed one into each trousers' pocket, and made 
all speed out of Wall Street. The next day he began work on 
his first laboratory in New York. 

CHARLES WILLIAM ELIOT 

AN EXTENDED CHAIR 

WHEN President Eliot of Harvard toured on the Pacific 
Coast some twenty years ago, one of the Western seats 
of learning which he visited was the University of Washington, 
at Seattle. 

He became much interested in Professor O. B. Johnson, 
a well-known figure on Puget Sound in those days, who was 
one of the college's leading lights, and in the course of a con- 
versation asked the Western man what chair he held. 

"Well," said Johnson, "I am professor of biology, but I 
also give instruction in meteorology, botany, physiology, chem- 
istry, entomology and a few others." 

"I should say that you occupied a whole settee, not a chair," 
rejoined Harvard's chief. 

THE PRESIDENTS GENEROSITY 

In Cambridge scores of stories circulate which illustrate 
his almost impulsive generosity. It is well known that on one 
occasion a student, sick with contagious disease and shunned 
by those about him. was taken into the President's own house. 
A raw sub-frcshman from a country village in Connecticut, on 
the evening of his first day in Cambridge, found himself in 



Charles William Eliot 149 

need of a Latin grammar to prepare for the next day's exam- 
ination. Quite without friends at the University, he told his 
need to the first man he met, and was bidden to the stranger's 
house. There a long search unearthed a Latin grammar, but it 
proved to be of too old an edition to serve the present need. 
By this time the stranger's perplexity and anxiety to get the 
book exceeded the student's own, and, after some thought, he 
sent the young man off with a note to a friend in a neighboring 
street who might be likely to have the right edition. It was 
weeks before the student learned that the chance stranger who 
had given an hour of his time and an even more precious 
measure of his sympathy to a lonely and troubled student was 
the President of the University. In a University that numbers 
over four thousand, the opportunity for personal touch be- 
tween student and President is small; but there are scores of 
stories of the enlistment of the President's personal interest 
in some student's behalf. There was a young man who de- 
sired to study botany, but had failed to satisfy some technical 
preliminary requirement. The committee which stood be- 
tween the student and his wish have a vivid recollection of 
the warmth of manner and the emphatic gesture of the Presi- 
dent as he declared, "If that young man wants to study botany, 
he shall study it." 

A NEW PRESIDENT 

Here is an anecdote suggestive in every way of Harvard's 
honored President : 

Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes told it in a letter to his friend 
Motley, the historian. The letter first described how curious 
it was to see "a. young man like Eliot, with an organizing 
brain, a firm will, a grave, calm, dignified presence, taking the 
ribbons of our classical fcoach-and-six, feeling (the horses' 
mouths, putting a check on this one's capers and touching that 
one with a lash, turning up everywhere in every faculty (I 



150 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

belong to three), on every public occasion, and taking it all 
as naturally as if he had been born President." Then he tells 
the story : 

" 'How is it, I should like to ask,' said one of our number 
the other evening, 'that this Faculty has gone on for eighty 
years managing its own affairs, and doing it well — how is it 
that we have been going on so well in the same orderly path 
for eighty years, and now, within three or four months, it is 
proposed to change all our modes of carrying on the school ; 
it seems very extraordinary, and I should like to know how it 
happens ?" 

" 'I can answer Dr. 's question very easily,' said the 

bland, grave young man ; 'there is a new President.' " 

DAN EMMETT 

THE STORY OF "DIXIE" 

\ NEWSPAPER man who went to talk with Dan Emmett, 
-^~^ the author of Dixie, a little while before his death, re- 
lates this story : 

"Are you Dan Emmett, who wrote Dixie?" 
"Well, I have heard of the fellow ; sit down," and Emmett 
motioned to the steps. 

"Won't you tell me how the song was written ?" 
"Like most everything else I ever did," said Emmett, "it 
was written because it had to be done. One Saturday night, 
in 1859, as I was leaving Bryant's Theatre, where I was play- 
ing, Bryant called, 'I want a walk-'round for Monday, Dan.' 
"The next day it rained and I stayed indoors. At first 
when I went at the song I couldn't get anything. But a line, 

'I wish I was in Dixie,' 
kept repeating itself in my mind, and I finally took it for my 
start. The rest wasn't long in coming. And that's the story of 
how Dixie was written. 



Dan Emmett 151 

"It made a hit at once, and before the end of the week 
everybody in New York was whisthng it. Then the South 
took it up and claimed it for its own. I sold the copyright 
for five hundred dollars, which was all I ever made from it. 
I'll show you my first copy." 

He went into the house and returned in a moment with a 
yellow, worn-looking manuscript in his hand. 

"That's Dixie " he said, holding it up for inspection. "1 
am going to give it to some historical society in the South, 
one of these days, for though I was born here in Ohio, I count 
myself Southerner, as my father was a Virginian." 

Dixie Land was, without question, the most famous of all 
the Southern war songs. But it was the tune, as in the case 
of Yankee Doodel, and not the words, that gave it its great 
power to fire the heart. It is claimed that Emmett appropri- 
ated the tune from an old negro air, which is quite probable. 

Since the war Dixie has been as favorite a tune with bands 
of music throughout the North as has Yankee Doodle. Abra- 
ham Lincoln set the example for this. A war correspondent 
recalls an incident which occurred only a night or two before 
Mr. Lincoln w'as assassinated. The President had returned 
from Richmond, and a crowd called with a band to tender 
congratulations and a serenade. The great man who was so 
soon to be the victim of the assassin's bullet appeared in re- 
sponse to calls and thanked his audience for the compliment. 
Several members of his Cabinet surrounded him, and it was a 
very interesting and dramatic occasion. Just as he was closing 
his brief remarks, Mr. Lincoln said : "I see you have a band 
with you. I should like to hear it play Dixie. I have con- 
sulted the Attorney-General, who is here by my side, and he 
is of the opinion that Dixie belongs to us. Now play it." The 
band struck up the old tune, and played it heartily. As the 
strains of the music rang out upon the air, cheer after cheer 
-Avent up from the throats of the hundreds of happy men who 



152 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

bad called to congratulate Mr. Lincoln upon the return of 
peace. It was that great soul's olive branch which he held 
out to the South. 

Dixie, as originally written by Dan Emmett was as fol- 
lows : 

I wish I was in the land ob cotton, 
Old times dar am not forgotten, 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 
In Dixie Land where I was born in. 
Early on a frosty mornin', 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 
Den I wish I was in Dixie, 

Hooray ! Hooray ! 
In Dixie Land, I'll take my stand. 
To lib and die in Dixie, 

Away ! Away ! 
Away down South in Dixie. 

Old Missus marry "Will-de-weaber," 
Willium was a gay deceaber; 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 
But when he put his arm around 'er, 
He smiled as fierce as a forty pounder, 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 

His face was as sharp as a butcher's cleaber. 
But dat did not seem to greab er' ; 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 
Old Missus acted de foolish part, 
And died for a man dat broke her heart. 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 

Now here's a health to de next old Missus, 
And all de gals dat want to kiss us ; 




HORACE GREELEY 

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 
GEORGE B. McCLELLAN 



BENJAMIN F. BUTLER 
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 

HENRY BERGH 



RoBi^EY D. Evans 155 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 
But if you want to drive 'way sorrow, 
Come and hear dis song to-morrow, 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 

Dar's buckwheat cakes an' Injen batter, 
Makes you fat or a httle fatter; 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 
Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble, 
To Dixie's Land I'm bound to trabble. 

Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! 

ROBLEY D. EVANS 

"FIGHTING BOB'S STORY" 

N the cabin of the battleship lozva, after the fight off 
Santiago, Admiral Evans, then Captain, told this inter- 
esting story of the battle: 

"At the time 'general quarters' was sounded, the engine 
bell rang 'full speed ahead,' and I put the helm to starboard, 
and the Iowa crossed the bows of the Infanta Maria Teresa, 
the first ship out. As the Spanish Admiral swung to the west- 
ward, the 12-inch shells on the forward turret of the Iowa 
seemed to strike him fair in the bow, and the fight was a 
spectacle. As the squadron came out in column, the ships 
beautifully spaced as to distance, and gradually increasing their 
speed to thirteen knots, it was superb. 

"The lozva from this moment kept up a steady fire from her 
heavy guns, heading all the time to keep the Infanta Maria 
Teresa on her starboard bow, and hoping to ram one of the 
leading ships. In the meantime the Oregon, Indiana, Brook- 
lyn and Texas were doing excellent work with their heavy 
guns. In a very short space of time the enemy's ships were 
all clear of the harbor mouth, and it became evidently impossi- 



I 



>. I 



156 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

ble for the lozva to ram either the first or the second ship on 
account of their speed. 

"The range at this time was two thousand yards from the 
leading ship. The lozva s hehn was immediately put hard to 
starboard, and the entire starboard port side was poured into 
the In fan fa Maria Teresa. The helm was then quickly shifted 
to port and the ship headed across the stern of the Teresa in 
an effort to head off the Oquendo. All the time the engines 
were driving at full speed ahead. A perfect torrent of shells 
from the enemy passed over the smoke-stacks and superstruc- 
ture of the ship, but none struck her. 

"The Cristobal Colon, being much faster than the rest of 
the Spanish ships, passed rapidly to the front in an efTort to 
escape. In passing the Iowa the Colon placed two 6-inch shells 
fairly in our starboard bow. One passed through the coffer- 
dam and dispensary, wrecking the latter and bursting on the 
berth deck, doing considerable damage. The other passed 
through the side of the water line with the cofferdam, where it 
still remains. 

SHIP CROWDED TO UTMOST SPEED 

"As it was now obviously imposible to ram any of the 
Spanish ships on account of their superior speed, the Iowa's 
helm was put to the starboard, and she ran on a course parallel 
with the enemy. Being then abreast of the Ahnirante 
Oquendo, at a distance of 1,100 yards, the Iowa's entire bat- 
tery, including the rapid-fire guns, was opened on the 
Oquendo. The punishment was terrific. Many twelve and 
eight-inch shells were seen to explode inside of her, and smoke 
came out through her hatches. Two twelve-inch shells from 
the lozva pierced the Almirante Oquendo at the same moment, 
one forward and the other aft. The Oquendo seemed to stop 
her engines for a moment and lost headway, but she immedi- 
ately resumed her speed, and gradually drew ahead of the 



RoBLEY D. Evans 157 

loTi'a and came under the terrific fire of the Oregon and Texas. 

"At this moment the alarm of 'torpedo-boats' was sounded, 
and two torpedo-boat destroyers were discovered on the star- 
board quarter at a distance of four thousand yards. Fire 
was at once opened on them with the after battery, and a 
twelve-inch shell cut the stern of one destroyer squarely oflf. 
As this shell struck, a small torpedo-boat fired back at the 
battleship, sending a shell within a few feet of my head. I 
said to Executive Officer Rogers, 'That little chap has got a 
lot of cheek.' Rogers shouted back, 'She shoots very well.' 

"Well up among the advancing cruisers, spitting shots at 
one and then at another, was the little Gloucester, shooting 
first at a cruiser and then at a torpedo-boat, and hitting a 
head wherever she saw it. The marvel was that she was not 
destroyed by the rain of shells. 

"In the meantime, the Vizcaya was slowly drawing abeam 
of the lozua, and for the space of fifteen minutes it was give 
and take between the two ships. The Viccaya fired rapidly, 
but wildly, not one shot taking effect on the lozs^'a, while the 
shells from the lozva were tearing great rents in the sides 
of the Viccayn. As the latter passed ahead of the lozva she 
came under the murderous fire of the Oregon. At this time 
the Infanta Maria Teresa, and the Almirante Oquendo, lead- 
ing the enemy's column, were seen to be heading for the 
beach and in flames. The Texas, Oregon and lozva pounded 
them unmercifully. They ceased to reply to the fire, and in a 
few moments the Spanish cruisers were a mass of flames and 
on the rocks with their colors down, the Teresa flying a white 
flag at the fore. 

THE SPANISH SHIPS ON FIRE 

"The crews of the enemy's ships stripped themselves and 
began jumping overboard, and one of the smaller magazines 
began to explode. Meantime the Brooklyn and the Christo- 



158 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

bal Colon were exchanging compliments in lively fashion and 
at apparently long range, and the Oregon, with her locomotive 
speed, was hanging well on to the Colon, also paying atten- 
tion to the Viccaya. The Teresa and the Oqnendo were in 
flames on the beach just twenty minutes after the first shot 
was fired. Fifty minutes after the first shot was fired the 
Vhcaya put her helm to port with a great burst of flame 
from the after part of the ship and headed slowly for the rocks 
at Acceredos, where she found her last resting place. 

**As it was apparent that the loiva could not possibly catch 
the Cristobal Colon and that the Oregon and Brooklyn un- 
doubtedly would, and as the fast Neiv York was also on her trail 
I decided that the cause of humanity should be answered and 
attention given to the twelve hundred or fifteen hundred Span- 
ish officers and men who had struck their colors to the Ameri- 
can squadron commanded by Admiral Sampson. I therefore 
headed for the wreck of the J^izcaya, now burning furiously 
fore and aft. When I was in as far as the depth of water 
would admit, I lowered all my boats and sent them at once to 
the assistance of the unfortunate men who were being drowned 
by dozens or roasted on the decks. I soon discovered that the 
insurgent Cubans who were on the shore would not allow the 
men who were struggling in the water to reach the shore. I 
immediately put a stop to this, but I could not put a stop to 
the mutilation of many bodies by the sharks inside the reef. 
These creatures had become excited by the blood from the 
wounded mixing in the water. 

"My boats' crews worked manfully and succeeded in saving 
many of the wounded from the burning ship. One man, who 
will be recommended for promotion, clambered up the side of 
the Vhcaya and saved three men from burning to death. The 
smaller magazines of the Vizcaya were exploding with mag- 
nificent cloud effects. The boats were coming alongside in a 
steady string and willing hands were helping the lacerated 



RoBLEY D. Evans 159 

Spanish officers and sailors on to the lozua's quarterdeck. All 
the Spaniards were absolutely without clothes. Some had 
their legs torn off by fragments of shells. Others were mutil- 
ated in every conceivable way. 

SUPERB EXAMPLES OF HEROISM 

"The bottoms of the boats held two or three inches of 
blood. In many cases dead men were lying in the blood. 
Five poor chaps died on the way to the ship. They were 
afterwards buried with military honors from the lozva. Some 
examples of heroism, or more properly devotion to discipline 
and duty, could never be surpassed. One man on the lost 
Vizcaya had his left arm almost shot off just below the shoul- 
der. The fragments were hanging by a small piece of skin. But 
he climbed unassisted over the side and saluted as if on a visit 
of ceremony. Immediately after him came a strong hearty 
sailor, whose left leg had been shot off above the knee. He 
was hoisted on board the loiva. with a tackle, but never a 
whimper came from him. Gradually the mangled bodies and 
naked men accumulated until it would have been almost diffi- 
cult to recognize the lozva as a United States battleship. 

"Blood was all over her usually white quarterdeck ; and 272 
naked men were being supplied with water and food by those 
who a few minutes before had been using a rapid-fire battery 
on them. Finally came the boats with Captain Eulate, com- 
mander of the J^i.zcaya for whom a chair was lowered over the 
side, as he was evidently wounded. The Captain's guard of 
marines was drawn up on the quarterdeck to salute him, and 
I stood waiting to welcome him. As the chair was placed on 
deck the marines presented arms. Captain Eulate slowly 
raised himself in the chair, saluted me with grave dignity, 
unbuckled his sword belt, and, liolding the hilt of the sword 
before him, kissed it reverently, with tears in his eyes, and 
then surrendered it to me. 



i6o Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"Of course, I declined to receive his sword, and, as the 
crew of the lozva saw this, they cheered hke wild men. As 
I started to take Captain Eulate into the cabin to let the doctors 
examine his wounds, the magazines on board the Vizcaya ex- 
ploded with a tremendous burst of flame. Captain Eulate, ex- 
tending his hands, said : 'Adios, Viscaya, there goes my beauti- 
ful ship. Captain;' and so we passed on to the cabin, where 
the doctors dressed his three wounds." 

EUGENE FIELD 

"ON THE CONTRARY" 

EUGENE FIELD was once visiting the house of his friends, 
the Stoddards, in New York, of which he sang: 
Their hom.e in Fifteenth Street is all so snug, and furnished so, 
That, when I once get planted there, I don't know when to go. 

During the evening a certain well-known physician dropped 
in. He is a serious man, and a bit pompous. The talk turned 
on diet. 

"Doctor," said Stoddard, "I've heard that you eat two eggs 
at breakfast every morning the year round." 

"No," said the doctor emphatically, "no; on the con- 
trary." 

" 'On the contrary !' " cried Stoddard. "What's the con- 
trary of eating two eggs?" 

"Laying two eggs," came in deep, solemn tones from Field. 

CHARLES WARREN FAIRBANKS 

A HARMLESS BEVERAGE 

-^HIS is a story which Vice-President Fairbanks probably 

-*- did not tell on the hustings last fall; but he vouches 

among friends for its truth. He says that three or four years 

ago when he and Governor Shaw, of Iowa, now Secretary of 



Clinton B. Fisk i6i 

the Treasury, were out campaigning, they finished a tour of 
Indiana and Ohio, and then went over into Kentucky, where 
they were received hospitably by a man who took them to 
lunch in a restaurant, as they had little time to spare. When 
they were seated, the host said : 

■'Now before lunch, gentlemen, please take something with 
me. What will you have?" 

"I'd like a glass of lemonade, if it is handy," replied 
Governor Shaw. 

Then beaming on the Senator from Indiana, the Kentuckiarr 
said: " Of course, Senator, you will have something with me?"' 

"Certainly," replied the Indiana statesman, "I'd like a glass 
of buttermilk." 

The sable waiter was grinning broadly as he asked the host : 
"Colonel, what will you have?" 

"Under the circumstances," answered the Colonel, mopping 
his brow, "I'll take a piece of pie." 

CLINTON B. FISK 

"PAPA WHY DONT YOU PRAY?" 

r^ENERAL FISK'S biographer, H. A. Hopkins, relates 
^-^ the following interesting incident : 

At home, one night, after supper was over, General Fisk's 
little three-year-old daughter Mary came and knelt by him 
to say her evening prayer. The mother was occupied unusu- 
ally, and for once her sweetest maternal duty she delegated 
to him. White-robed and pure as the white-robed ones above, 
the tiny figure bowed its head upon his knee and prayed. It 
was a new experience to this busy young man. He listened, 
with heart beating swifter, to her simple formula, and to the 
special plea of "God bless papa, God bless mamma," at the 
close. And when the child rose up her question smote him like 
a blow : 



i62 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"Papa, why don't you pray ?" 

He made some hasty answer, and kissed her haunting lips 
good-night. Then he went down street and into the bank, and 
tried to labor there. But his mind would not fix itself on 
matters of finance. Between him and credit balances, bills of 
exchange, discounts, and the like came presistently that little 
form in white ; over and over he heard again the prayer 
breathed softly at his knee, and echoing in his ears, with sweet 
and strange persistence that would not be put aside, her ques- 
tion repeated itself: 

"Papa, why don't you pray?" 

At last he yielded to the influences which he could not con- 
trol, thrust business considerations quite away, and did the 
soberest thinking he had done for many a month. And in the 
midst of commercial success, facing what promised to be a 
widely prosperous future, he resolved hereafter to be as active 
for God as for Clinton Fisk, and to leaven all his business life 
with prayer. 

Bolting his safes and turning the key of his bank door, he 
walked homeward. Reaching there, he sat down near his 
wife and said: 

"Did you hear the question Mary asked me, Jeannette?" 

"Yes, Clinton, I heard it," answered Mrs. Fisk. 

"Well, Jenny, I've been thinking it all over, and I've 
made up my mind that, with God's help, we'll have all the 
praying there ought to be in this household hereafter. If 
you'll hand me the Bible, we'll begin now." 

"IT HAD TO BE DONE THEN" 
It was while General Fisk's command lay at Helena, after 
their return from the Yazoo expedition, and one evening as he 
sat on a bluff of the Mississippi, looking across its muddy cur- 
rent and still muddier bottoms, that he heard some superla- 
tive swearing not far below. It was about the worst to which 



Clinton B. Fisk 163 

he had ever listened, and it grieved him to think, indeed at 
first he would not believe, that it could come from one of his 
own men. Walking out to the edge of the bluff, and looking 
over, he saw a teamster of the Thirty-third, who had been 
to the landing with a wagon and six mules, and, coming back 
up the river, had snagged on a stump and broken the wagon- 
pole. And, according to this teamster's profane declarations, 
everything conceivable and inconceivable, in the Confederacy 
and out of it, was in the way just at that particular time, and 
to blame for his mishap. He blamed everything, too, and 
everybody, in language exuberant with curses, till the mias- 
matic air seemed blue. 

General Fisk walked back and sat down. By and by, 
soberly leading his six mules, along came the teamster. Salut- 
ing him kindly, the General said : 

"John, didn't I hear some one swearing dreadfully over 
there a little while ago ?" 

"Oh, yes," the man answered, "I reckon you did." 

"Who was it?" asked the General. 

"That was me, sir," he replied. 

"But," said General Fisk, "don't you remember the cove- 
nant made up at the Benton Barracks, between you and me 
and the others of the regiment, that I was to do all the swear- 
ing that was needed for the Thirty-third Missouri during the 
war?" 

"Oh, yes," the man answered, promptly, "I remember 
that ; but you were not there to do it, and it had to be done 
then." 

General Fisk enjoyed the humor of this reply, as much 
as he had been pained by the occasion for it, and gave it over 
to his staff. It gained wide currency, and afterward, through 
all the Mississippi region, whenever a teamster was heard 
cursing, some one would suggest that he wait till General Fisk 
came along and let him have the job. 



164 CAriTAL Stories About Famous Americans 

FISK'S ARMY TACTICS 

On one occasion advices from the War Department, at 
Washington, had announced a new edition of Casey's Army 
Tactics and copies were looked for eagerly at the front. 
While still expected, General Fisk, one morning, received a 
thousand bright New Testaments from the American Bible 
Society. They were unpacked and put up at headquarters in 
a neat case, and, with their gilt-lettered backs, made quite a 
show. Within an hour or two in came Colonel Samuel Rice, 
of Iowa, and glancing casually at the volumes he said : 

"So the Tactics have come ! I am glad of it." 

"Yes, Colonel," was the General's answer, "the Tactics 
have come." 

"Can I make my requisition for them this morning?" 
Colonel Rice then quickly inquired, still giving to them no 
closer scrutiny. 

"Certainly," he was told. 

"Have you read these Tactics, General?" he further asked. 

"Yes, Colonel," was the prompt answer; "I have studied 
them, and I mean to study them morning and evening till 
mustered out." ^ 

Colonel Rice's requisition for "forty-two Casey's Tactics" 
came soon through the adjutant-general, and General Fisk 
made up a package of forty-two New Testaments and sent 
it to Colonel Rice. The officers gathered round him to re- 
ceive each a copy, and watched their Colonel wdiile he opened 
the package and handed out the books. 

Astonishment followed, of course. It was not the kind of 
joke common in army circles, but they took it kindly. For 
a long time Colonel Rice had been thinking soberly on re- 
ligious things. He began now to study the Tactics, and gave 
himself prayerfully to the warfare therein taught. For others 
of that group, also, these Tactics had special message and 
blessing. 



CivINTON B. FiSK 165 

"NIGGER EQUALITY" 

During" reconstruction days, General Fisk in his work in 
the Freedman's Bureau, met with many interesting experi- 
ences. 

As an extreme sample of one type with which General 
Fisk had to deal, we may mention an Alabama woman, a 
mountain refugee, who came into headquarters as if they 
would contaminate her, and fairly demanded her rights. She 
had, as she informed him, "ben two year in Injianny," and 
her business now was "to git transportation back to Alabam'. 
We uns hearn tell," she said, "that you uns was goin' to give 
the refugees the farms of the old secesh, and we uns wants 
'em." The General told her no, that could not be done; and 
as he said it, and while her disappointment was getting ready 
to voice itself, a neatly-dressed colored woman came in, and 
begged a hearing. It was accorded her as politely as if she 
had been white and dressed in satin. She was neater and more 
ladylike than the Alabama refugee. Her story was infinitely 
more sad. Her daughter had been spirited away from Nash- 
ville, after being freed by act of Congress, and sold in Georgia. 
It was an unusual and unusually aggravating case, and it 
touched the Commissioner's great tender heart at once. Her 
petition for aid to bring back the stolen young woman was 
granted as soon as made, and the petitioner went gratefully 
away. Then this Alabama woman grew wrathy. 

"Gineral Fisk," she asked, her sallow face yet more un- 
lovely than before, "be you a abolitionist ?" 

"Yes, madam," he frankly answered, "I be." 

"Wall, now, gineral," she went on, "you don't believe in 
nigger equality, do you? I'm sure you ain't so bad as that?" 

The General's patience did not fail him, but his sense of 
justice asserted itself. With less suavity than usual, he re- 
plied : 

"Madam, I do not think you need to have the least uneasi- 



1 66 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

ness in the world on the question of equahty, for you will have 
to learn a great deal more than you now know, and will have 
to conduct yourself in a much better manner, before you be- 
come anywhere near the equal of that good colored woman 
who has just left." 

And with a sniff of her snuffy nose, and vigorously con- 
demning the "nigger bureau," this lady from Alabama took 
her leave. 

JOSEPH WINGATE FOLK 

A STORY OF BEGINNINGS 

TTOSMER WHITFIELD has told in the Success magazine 
-*--*- this interesting and impressive story of one of the 
most foremost figures to-day in American politics : 

"Joseph Wingate Folk, whom the Democrats of Missouri 
elected Governor, seems to fit into the refrain of Rudyard Kip- 
ling's poem. Once on a Time There Was a Man, even more 
perfectly than Joseph Chamberlain, the Great British Liberal, 
whose career prompted the effusion. Next to President 
Roosevelt, the most extraordinary personal triumph of the 
w^hole bewildering election was won by Mr. Folk. His vic- 
tory was purely individual. He was the only man on his 
ticket who carried his State. He carried it against the bitter 
enmity of the personal leaders of his own party. His career 
is an inspiring demonstration of the value of uncompromising, 
aggressive honesty to a public man. He personifies the great- 
est overshadowing issue of present and future politics, — wipe 
out corruption. Mr. Folk, as circuit attorney of St. Louis, was 
the man who, single-handed, in the past year has brought to 
bay and sent to jail the majority of the gang of boodlers, 
bribers, and bribe-takers, who, up to his election, had been 
robbing the city by the big river. 

"He was thirty-five years old on October 28, 1904. He was 



JOSEIPH WiNGATE FoLK 1 6/ 

only in his thirty-first year when he began the crusade against 
corruption that has made a new chapter in American history. 
In these few years this young man has done more in this re- 
spect than the entire law system of the United States has else- 
where accomplished. He has practically split wide open the 
most infamous ring that ever thrived in an American city. 
Many a man who was old enough to be his father, or even his 
grandfather, — many a man who was a powerful politician and 
fearless as a financier, — was trapped by him as easily as if 
his game were a baby's. Men who thought that they knew 
every phase of municipal plundering, and who believed that 
they were above and beyond the law, and safe in the very 
core of their criminality, scattered before this youngster and 
left their dark records to indict them. 

"It was only by chance that he was nominated for circuit 
attorney of St. Louis. Very little was known of him save 
that he was a bright young lawyer, a Democrat, and ambitious 
as a politician. He had come from his native place, Browns- 
ville, Tennessee, to seek a future in a larger municipality. 
At Vanderbilt University he was known as a clever young 
man, popular and well liked, but always studious. No sooner 
had he been graduated than he rushed into law. He was ad- 
mitted to the bar in 1890, and his life until 1900 was filled 
with the ups and downs that beset any fellow who throws him- 
self on the world with but one object in view, — to succeed. 
But it was a sorry day for many in St. Louis when Joseph W. 
Folk was placed on the Democratic ticket for circuit attorney. 
How he got on, no one can really explain. Ask any of the 
bosses and they will hold up their hands in horror and say, 
'God only knows.' He was understood to be ambitious. He 
was placed on the ticket unwittingly. The bosses thought that 
he could be 'used,' — that he would bow to the regulations of 
the ring and the demands of its leaders in order to hold his 
office and win promotion. 



Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

WHEN MADE CIRCUIT ATTORNEY HE SURPRISED THE MACHINE 
"Like all other young lawyers, with no one but themselves 
to depend on, he took cases when and where he could get 
them during his first year in St. Louis, at one time being 
attorney for ticket scalpers, and he went about hunting for 
all the petty business that every young lawyer knows. While 
attorney for some street railway strikers, he became associated 
with Harry W. Hawes, his chief political foe. They were 
both in about the same boat, except that Hawes had been in 
St. Louis longer than Folk, was somewhat better known, and 
had greater local influence. Together Hawes and Folk began 
to dabble in petty politics. Hawes was the organizer of the 
Jeflferson Club, which began with eighteen members and for 
several years only contained a few hundred, and amounted to 
little politically. To-day Hawes is still its president and prac- 
tically its dictator, and its eight thousand members are known 
as the 'St. Louis Indians.' Where this name 'Indians' origin- 
-ated no one seems to know, it probably being a reflection of 
New York's Tammany. To-day the Jefferson Club is the 
'machine,' and is feared, liked, hated, and served accordingly. 
Its influence, usually baneful, has reached from the World's 
Fair to the bridges over the Mississippi, that are strangling the 
business interests of St. Louis. 

"Folk and Howes were chums. When the making of a new 
ticket came up, 'Ed.' Butler, then the undisputed boss, — at 
Hawes' request, — placed Folk on the ticket for circuit attorney. 
So little was Folk known that Butler had never heard of him, 
but Hawes, having some secret idea of his own, and thinking 
that Folk was an easy, waxy man to handle, obtained Butler's 
consent to Folk's nomination. Folk accepted, with his usual 
caution, and with both eyes open. It did not take Hawes 
and Butler long to discover with what kind of a man they hod 
to deal. 

"Folk has two short words that represent his character 



JosEPfi WiNGATE Folk 169 

better than any other two words in our language. One is 
'honor,' the other is 'duty.' He placed his right foot on one, 
and his left foot on the other, and there he stands. There are 
men who laugh at this and say that he must waver, and that no 
man in his position can remain spotless. 

"On the day that he took office, he discovered frauds in 
the very election that put him in power. Without a moment's 
delay he began to bring the illegal voters to justice. Cor- 
porations and bosses sent their henchmen to warn him not to 
go too far. But he was obdurate. 

" 'We charge you with ingratitude,' they said. 

" 'And I charge you with breaking the law,' he replied. 

" 'You are prosecuting Democratic wardmen,' they said, 
threateningly. 

" 'I am glad to know who they are,' he replied. 

" 'It is not your fault that dishonest men voted for you,' 
they said, angrily. 

" 'One who violates the law is not a Democrat, or a Re- 
publican, but a criminal,' replied the circuit attorney. 

"This answer has rung through Missouri and the West and 
its echoes are being heard in the East. It is famous. 

"Through these dishonest voters, he discovered the nest of 
boodle plunderers. He discovered that corporations were rob- 
bing the people to bribe politicians, and that the laws of the city 
were being sold without a blush. No other circuit attorney 
had ever dared to attack this political stronghold. He said on 
the stump that, if elected, he would do his duty. 'That's fine 
campaign oratory,' said his adherents ; 'it will make the people 
believe that they are really going to get good government.' 

"The party reckoned without its candidate. He was in 
deadly earnest. His air of determination was real. His words 
of warning were not the vote-catching platitudes and promises 
that are of one color before election day and of another there- 
after. He went at the very men who elected him as well as 



170 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

the men who opposed him in a manner that silenced the pub- 
lic. The task was Herculean, but he was equal to it. Finally 
his party and the corporations and boodlers back of it saw tliat 
their mighty temple of graft was to be shattered. Nothing 
could save it unless something radical were done. 'Folk must 
be squelched.' 

"There were only two ways to suppress him. One was to 
murder him, the other to tempt him with a sum of money so 
large that he could not resist it. The first way was thought 
to be most expedient. Folk was threatened. Letters were 
written to him stating that he would be shot if he did not quit. 
His friends heard of these letters, and begged him to desist, 
but he only prosecuted with more vigor, 

"His detractors tried to carry their threats into action. A 
shot was fired at him, but the bullet still rests in the hole that 
it bored in his office wall. Then they tried to buy him. 'Maybe 
he is only waiting to be offered a large sum,' they said. Cor- 
porations sent their oiliest talkers to win him over. He told 
them that they must put their requests in writing. Some dared 
to do so, only to incriminate themselves. It is said that he was 
sent a blank check signed by a 'leading' citizen with a request 
to fill it out for any amount, as it would be cashed at sight. At 
any rate, he was offered a great amount of money, a sum so 
large that it was thought he could not pass it by, — he was 
offered just two million dollars, openly and without conditions, 
to quit. But he quietly smiled and said, 'No!' 

"This undemonstrative young man, equipped with the 
courage of plain honesty, and with nothing else back of him 
save the guidance of a good father and a good mother, and a 
faithful, loving wife, had, therefore, awakened a new era of 
civic righteousness in his State. With the adamantine im- 
pregnability of a Gibraltar, he stood his ground, defying all 
who opposed him. Slightly undersized, cool, collected, with no 
touch of the dramatic, he kept on working, not to prosecute any 



Simeon Ford 171 

individual, but to defend his State. The people rallied around 
him. They were made enthusiastic by his progress. They 
felt he must be rewarded. His salary was too small a reward, 
for his life was in danger, and he must be given something to 
show the gratitude of the people. They met and agreed to 
purchase a beautiful residence site, and build thereon a home 
and present the title deed to him. He heard of this promised 
token of appreciation, and nipped its bestowal in the bud. 'I 
shall be obliged to refuse it,' he said; 'I cannot accept any- 
thing for my work but my salary.' " 

SIMEON FORD 

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEAKER 
IMEON FORD told last year in Success the interesting 



s 



story of his development as an after-dinner speaker, and 
some exceedingly amusing stories of his experience : 

"I have already said my final word on after-dinner speak- 
ing in an after-dinner speech on the painful subject. It was to 
the effect that after-dinner oratory is a curious business, 
severe on the guests, but worse on us ; that the few orators who 
really enjoy speaking are men without any sense of shame ; and 
that as for myself, I am free to say that I would rather be 
the humblest bank president among the guests than to sit in 
the fierce light that beats upon the head table and get my dinner 
for nothing. That about sums up the case. 

ANTICIPATION OF A SPEECH FREQUENTLY SPOILS A DINNER 

"When I began making speeches, 'year in and year out 
ago,' I took myself as seriously as must anyone who hopes to 
be funny. When I was invited to make an after-dinner speech, 
I read and re-read the invitation with prideful thrills, and then 
I read it to my wife and permitted her to regard me acrosss the 
breakfast table as admiringly as the wonder I felt myself about 



172 Capital Stokies About Famous Americans 

to be, ought to be regarded. After-dinner speaking seemed to 
me to be a neat and shining short cut to assorted varieties of 
fame. I spent days over my speech ; I muttered it in street cars 
and on railway trains, till my fellow-passengers were worked 
up to a concert pitch of suspicion of my innocent past, I made 
my family both jealous and bored; I alienated my friends; I 
proved to my enemies their own excellent judgment; and I 
wore myself to the sad shadow I now am, all in getting ready 
one line of foolishness after another. 

"All for what? 

"Not because I enjoyed it, certainly : the anticipation was 
sauce to spoil the dinner for me, utterly; besides, as I have 
often said, of all the many melancholy places a man is jammed 
into in the course of an ill-spent life, recommend to me the 
head table at a big dinner. The men there are so scared and 
mad because they will have to speak that nobody could b(^ 
glummer, unless it be the men at the other tables who are mad 
because they haven't been asked. There is nothing enjoyable 
about it. The actual speaking is a pleasure to some, if it goes 
off well ; to others it is always a terror, anyway ; and, if it 
doesn't go off well, the skilless forger, languidly eating his 
first dinner in Sing Sing, finds the meal a gladsome birthday 
party in comparison. You might as well set before him a cake 
covered with pink frosting and pink candles, and expect his 
face to light up with smiles, as to expect the applause of a din- 
ner table to brighten the life of a man who knows none the less 
that his speech has been a failure. The whole business is a 
precarious one. What did I see in it to justify me? I don't 
know, unless it was the feverish delight of looking for my 
picture on the first page of the paper next morning. For that 
I fought and bled and died for years before it began to bore 
me. 

"Then, gradually, I came to wonder why in the world I 
was doing it. 'What's the use?' is a cynical question only 



Simeon Ford 173 

when it is applied to something over which you would do well 
to be cynical. Ask what's the use of doing any of the worth- 
while things that you do, and you'll find the use quickly 
enough. But drape the question around any foolishness, and 
you will get back a hollow, echoing, rattling reply, — 'No use !' 
That is the truth. There is no use in after-dinner speaking 
for the after-dinner speaker ; he would be satisfied to eat and 
go away. There is nothing in it for the magnate who silently 
lends his respectability to the occasion ; his respectability is 
enough for him. There's nothing in it for the jolly, lucky soul 
who is simply there to enjoy himself at another fellow's ex- 
pense and say nothing. As Gallagher would say, — 

" 'There's not'in' doin' for nobody ; so wot's the use ?' 

ONE MAY MAKE A GOOD SPEECH AND NO ONE WILL SMILE 

"So much for the dark side of an evil subject! Still, if 
after-dinner speaking is to be accepted as a necessary evil 
and done at all, it might as well be done well. But the 
test of its having been done well is not necessarily its re- 
sult. If a man sets the table in a roar he has made a good 
after-dinner speech ; but, on the other hand, he may make a 
perfectly good after-dinner speech, and nobody will crack a 
smile. Clearly the matter depends on something besides him- 
self, and in the case of a fairly good speaker, this something 
is the secret of all good after-dinner speaking; it is the secret 
of a man's picture being on the first page next morning, or not 
at all ; it is the secret of his boring a company or making every- 
body fall on the table ; it is the secret of his ultimate reputation 
as a wit or as a bore ; and it is the simplest thing in the world. 
The true explanation is found in the fact that his fate lies in 
the hands of the man who speaks before he does. 

"When they ask me where, on a dinner programme, I de- 
sire to be placed, I always want to say : 'Please lay a cover 
for the biggest bore there is, and put me on the programme 



174 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

next' They don't always do it, but, when they do, it is h'ke 
some patent adjustable appliance for the mechanical manufac- 
ture of an oratorical success. The air is so overcharged with 
the dry stuff that preceded, that any old, worn-out spark of 
mine will light a laughing bonfire very difficult to extinguish. 
"On the arrangement of a programme of toasts depends the 
success of an after-dinner speaker. The other fellows won't 
have any success, anyway. But they are very useful, — those 
other fellows. They fomi a magnificent black velvet back- 
ground for the display of jewels, and it is so black and so heavy 
that even paste looks well when it is laid on it. They are 
the low lights, the middle-dark of the picture. They have to 
be, so let them be. Never decry a bore at a dinner. Think of 
the man who will sparkle afterwards, when the guests will fall 
on his neck with gratitude for the least little effervescence. 

DONT BLAME A BORE: YOU'LL BE GLAD WHEN HE STOPS 

"Once a party of ladies and gentlemen, driving along a 
country road, came upon a small and very ragged and terribly 
dirty little boy who sat knocking a stone against his own head. 
He continued rhythmically battering away until the passers- 
by became alarmed. 

" 'My poor child,' exclaimed one of the ladies, 'what are 
you doing? Aren't you hurting your head frightfully?' 

"The boy stopped, abashed, but with a good conscience. 

" 'Yes'm,' he explained, 'I am ; but it feels so good when 
I stops.' 

"So never blame a bore. Think how good it will feel when 
he stops. 

"In the hands of the toastmaster, then, lies the glory or 
defeat of the humorous fellows who are to speak. If he finds 
that an uproarious speech, just received with shouts of ap- 
plause is to be followed by the speech of a man who is sure to 
be funny, he will no more allow it than the chef would have 



I Simeon Ford 175 

allowed terrapin to follow lobster on the incmi. He will reach 
away down the programme, and pull up a man brimming with 
dates and heavy facts about the unearned increment, and he 
will set him on his feet in their light-minded midst. The man 
will be an instant counter-irritant ; the guests, still glowing 
with their fun, will listen to him with patience, and rest; his 
own complacence in being lifted forward in the order of ex- 
ercises will be unbounded; and the day will have been saved 
for the poor old funny man who was to come next to the other 
funny man, and everybody will be pleased. 

THE WISE WORLD LIKE TO WEEP AS WELL AS TO LAUGH 

"That is the very way that the whole literary and lecture- 
going and theater-going public is played upon all the time. 
Take the book that makes you laugh up one page and cry down 
the next; one lays it down with the unvarying comment, — 
'It is a good book.' That was, for instance, the secret of 
the enormous success of 'Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch.' 
What else made James Whitcome Riley and Bill Nye tour 
the country together? Their success was half due to the fact 
that Nye lifted an audience away up on the top of joke after 
joke and left it there gasping till Riley came gracefully for- 
ward and let everybody down with a poem about the little boy 
who died and whose Christmas tree was left standing for years, 
drying up in a corner of the musty parlor. In every successful 
play this arrangement is observed. Golden-haired Irene dies 
in a plush chair and a delirous dress ; the audience, with swell- 
ing throat, realizes that never again that night will she caper 
through the first act, gayly, lightly, fleetly joyous, or her tiny 
slippered feet beat out to rhythmic rag-time. She is dead, dead, 
dead, and the audience wonders why it came to be thus har- 
rowed, — when, lo, the low comedian ! In he trots, in the next 
act, in an excruciating make-up, with a lurid line of talk and a 
job lot of light-footed antics, and the audience leaves the house 



176 Capital Stories About Famous Amijricans 

in a tumult of appreciation. It's the way ; and, since you can 
not make people weep at a dinner, to get contrast, the next best 
play is to have them bored here and there with florid doses 
of useful information. 

THE GUESTS ALWAYS APPLAUD THE CREATOR OF LAUGHTER ' 

"The man of humor, if he gets a desirable place on the 
programme, not too near the end and not after a star, has an 
easy time, too. Let him make light of himself, hit off the well- 
known weakness of some one who is popular, use a good adjec- 
tive out of its usual sense, and, above all else, light on some 
foible or discomfort or grudge common to everybody, and 
his speech is a success. The guests are usually with him 
from the first, anyway ; they want to laugh ; they will always go 
halfway to meet a laugh; the speaker has not a single prejudice 
to ovecome before he has them smiling. They will laugh at 
things which, ventured by their wives over breakfast, would 
meet with a cold stare or a haughty and uncomplimentary 
comment. They are the easiest people in the world to please, 
if you give them half an excuse. The permanent possession 
of this half excuse constitutes you, in their eyes, a humorous 
speaker. 

"The place of the short story in an after-dinner speech is a 
precarious one. I have never used it in my life, and I am al- 
ways amazed and delighted at the brave men who do. Some- 
body in the room is terribly likely to have heard the very best 
story you can relate. I remember once hearing a short story 
told at the head table that aroused such a roar of laughter that 
I was sure no one there had ever heard it before. This must 
mean, I thought, that the man has either made it up himself, 
or pinched the proofs of a joke paper, made up two months 
ahead. The story was this: 

"A shepherd once advertised for an assistant shepherd, 
whom he wished to do all his hard work. A sailor, who had 



SiMi;oN Ford 177 

spent all his life at sea, came ashore and saw the advertisement, 
and, thinking he would like a few years of land duty, applied 
to the shepherd for the job. 

" 'But you say you have been at sea all your life,' cried the 
shepherd, with astonishment ; 'what can you know about sheep ?' 

" 'Nothing at all,' replied the sailor, humbly, 'but I believe 
I can do this business, all the same.' 

"The shepherd led him up to a high mountain, and pointed 
to the valleys and mountains and meadows for miles around. 
They were all thickly scattered with sheep. 

"'Do you see those sheep?' said the shepherd. 'They are 
all mine, and the work you would have to do would be to get 
them all into the fold by to-morrow night. You could never 
do that.' 

" 'Yes, I could,' persisted the sailor, stolidly. So the shep- 
herd gave in and said he would take him, and, when he had 
dressed him as a shepherd, he took him to the sheds and 
showed him a pack of magnificent collies. 

" 'Here,' he said, 'are the dogs that you w^ill take with you 
to do the work.' 

" 'Dogs !' cried the sailor, 'I could never do anything with 
dogs. I shall leave the dogs here and drive the sheep in 
myself.' 

"Believing him, by this time, to be quite mad, the shepherd 
watched him go away, and had forgotten all about him when, 
the next night, there was a rap at the door of his cot, and there 
the sailor stood. 

" 'What do you want now ?' demanded the shepherd, an- 
grily. 

" 'The sheep are all in,' announced the sailor. 

"In amazement the shepherd followed the man to the fold, 
and there, sure enough, were all his sheep safely in. 

" 'Well, well !' said the shepherd, 'so they are ; but how in 
the world did you do it?' 



178 Capita!. Stories About Famous Americans 

" 'Oh,' said the sailor, indifferently, 'that's nothing ! The 
only things that gave me any trouble at all were the little 
lambs, and I did have an awful time with them.' 

"The shepherd looked where he pointed, and saw a dozen 
jack rabbits that the sailor had driven in for lambs. 

"The point was one of those growing ideas that everbody 
.sees little by little, and the appreciation was so general at last 
that it looked like a perfectly new story. Alas! the laughter 
had not fairly died away before, from my right, a melancholy- 
looking man with a crepe beard murmured : — 

" 'Good ! Good ! I've usually heard that told with little 
wildcats instead of jack rabbits.' " 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 

A LESSON IN TIME VALUE 

FRANKLIN not only understood the value of time, but he 
put a price upon it that made others appreciate its worth. 

A customer who came one day to his little bookstore in 
Philadelphia, not being satisfied with the price demanded by 
the clerk for the book he wished to purchase, asked for the 
proprietor. "Mr. Franklin is very busy just now in the press- 
room," replied the clerk. The man, however, who had already 
spent an hour aimlessly turning over books, insisted on seeing 
him. In answer to the clerk's summons, Mr. Franklin hurried 
out from the newspaper establishment at the back of the store. 

"What is the lowest price you can take for this book, sir?" 
asked the leisurely customer, holding up the volume. "One 
dollar and a quarter," was the prompt reply. "A dollar and 
a quarter ! Why, your clerk asked me only a dollar just now." 
"True," said Franklin, "and I could have better afforded to 
take a dollar than to leave my work." 

The man, who seemed to be in doubt as to whether Mr. 
Franklin was in earnest, said jokingly: "Well, come now, 



Be;njamin Franklin 179 

tell me the lowest price for this book." "One dollar and a 
half," was the grave reply. "A dollar and a half! Why, 
you just offered it for a dollar and a quarter." 

"Yes, and I could better have taken that price then than a 
■dollar and a half now." 

Without another word, the crestfallen purchaser laid the 
money on the counter and left the store. He had learned not 
only that he who squanders his own time is foolish, but that he 
who wastes the time of others is a thief. 

HUNTING FOR AN EXCUSE 

When Franklin ran away from Boston for New York, he 
escaped by boat. 

When the sloop was becalmed one day off Block Island, 
the sailors amused themselves by fishing for cod, as becalmed 
sailors and yachtsmen do to this day off that coast. Benjamin, 
who still adhered to his vegetarian theory, regarded the taking 
of life for the sake of procuring food as murder. Fishing, in 
particular, was murder unprovoked ; for no one could contend 
that these cod, which the sailors kept hauling up over the 
sloop's bulwarks and slapping down upon the deck, had 
wrought any harm to their captors. This argument, so long 
as the mere catching continued, seemed unanswerable; but 
when, by and by, the cod began to send forth a most alluring 
odor from the frying-pan, the tempted vegetarian, who had 
formerly been extremely fond of fish, found it necessary to go 
over his reasoning again, to see if there was not a flaw in it. 
He was unhappy at not being able to find one, and for some 
minutes there was a struggle between principle and inclination. 
It occurred to him, at length, that when the fish were opened he 
had seen smaller fish in their stomachs. "If you eat one an- 
other," said he to himself, "I don't see why we may not eat 
you." So he dined upon cod very heartily, and continued 
afterwards to eat what other people ate. After telling this 



i8o Capital Storiks About Famous Americans 

story he makes an observation which is often attributed to 
Talleyrand and others, but which was a familiar joke with 
Franklin when Talleyrand was a boy. ''So convenient a thing 
it is," says Franklin, "to be a reasonable creature, since it en- 
ables one to find or make a reason for every thing- one has a 
mind to do." 

WATER DRINKER 

Speaking of his experience in London as a printer, his 
biographer says of him : 

"At this period of his life Franklin drank only wafer. His 
fellow-pressmen, nearly fifty in number, were great drinkers 
of beer. Nevertheless, the Water-American, as they nick- 
named him, carried up and down stairs a form on each hand, 
while the beer-drinkers carried but one on both hands. They 
wondered that he, who, they supposed, derived no strength 
from his drink, should be stronger than themselves who drank 
strong beer. 'My companion at the press,' says Franklin, 
'drank every day a pint before breakfast, a pint at breakfast 
with his bread and cheese, a pint between breakfast and dinner, 
a pint at dinner; a pint in the afternoon about six o'clock, and 
another when he had done his day's work. I thought it a de- 
testable custom ; but it was necessary, he supposed, to drink 
strong beer, that he might be strong to labor. I endeavored 
to convince him that the bodily strength afforded by beer 
could only be in proportion to the grain or flour of the barley, 
dissolved in the water of which it was made; that there was 
more flour in a pennyworth of bread, and, therefore, if he could 
eat that with a pint of water, it would give him more strength 
than a quart of beer. He drank on, however, and had four or 
five shillings to pay out of his wages every Saturday night 
for that vile liquor : an expense I was free from ; and thus 
these poor fellows keep themselves always under by being 
slaves to a bad habit." 



Benjamin Franklin i8i 

FRANKLIN'S WONDERFUL KITE 

It was in the June thunder-storms of 1752 that Frankhn's 
immortal kite was flown. Parton thus tells the story. 

"Who does not know the story? How he made his kite 
of a large silk handkerchief, fastened to the top of a per- 
pendicular stick, a piece of sharpened iron-wire. How he stole 
away, upon the approach of a storm, into the commons not 
far from his own house, say about the corner of Race and 
Eighth Streets, near a spot where there was an old cowshed. 
How, wishing to avoid the ridicule of possible failure, he told 
no one what he was going to do, except his son, who accom- 
panied him, and who was then not the small boy he is repre- 
sented in a hundred pictures, but a braw lad of twenty-two, 
one of the beaux of Philadelphia. How the kite was raised 
in time for the coming gust, the string being hempen, except 
the part held in the hand, which was silk. How, at the termi- 
nation of the hempen string a common key was fastened ; and 
in the shed was deposited a Leyden bottle, in which to collect 
from the clouds, if the clouds should prove to contain it, the 
material requisite for an electric shock. How father and son 
stood for some time under the shed, presenting the spectacle, 
if there had been any one to behold it, of two escaped lunatics 
flying a kite in the rain ; the young gentleman, no doubt, feeling 
a little foolish. How, at last, when a thunder-cloud appeared 
to pass directly over the kite, and yet no sign of electricity ap- 
peared, the hopes of the father, too, began to grow faint. 
How, when both were ready to despair of success, Franklin's 
heart stood still, as he suddenly observed the fibres of the 
hempen string to rise, as a boy's hair rises when he stands on 
the insulating stool. How, with eager, trembling hand, he 
applied his knuckle to the key and drew therefrom an unmis- 
takable spark, and another and another, and as many as he 
chose. How the Leyden phial was charged, and both received 
the most thrilling shock ever experienced by man ; a shock that 



i82 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

might have been figuratively styled electric, if electric it had 
not really been. How, the wet kite being drawn in, and the 
apparatus packed, the philosopher went home exulting — the 
happiest philosopher in Christendom. 

"And this was only the beginning of triumph. The next 
ships that arrived from the Old World, brought him the news 
that the same experiment, in the mode originally suggested by- 
him of erecting an iron rod upon an eminence, had been suc- 
cessfully performed in France, so that his name had suddenly 
become one of the most famous in Europe." 

ROBERT FULTON 

THE SAILING OF THE FIRST STEAMBOAT 

JUSTICE JOSEPH STORY, in an address delivered before 
the Boston Mechanic's Institute in 1829, gave the follow- 
ing interesting account of the building and sailing of the first 
steamboat by Fulton, as he received it from the lips of that 
distinguished inventor and mechanic : 

" 'When,' said Fulton, 'I was building my first steamboat 
at New York, the project was viewed by the public either with 
indifiference, or with contempt, as a visionary scheme. My 
friends, indeed, were civil, but they were shy. They listened 
with patience to my explanations, but with a settled cast of 
incredulity on their countenances. I felt the full force of the 
lamentation of the poet, — 

"Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land ? 
All fear, none aid you, and few understand." 
As I had occasion to pass daily to and from the building- 
yard, while my boat was in progress, I have often loitered 
unknown near the idle groups of strangers, gathering in little 
circles, and heard various inquiries as to the object of this 
new vehicle. The language was uniformly that of scorn, or 
sneer, or ridicule. The loud laugh often rose at my expense ; 



Robert Fui^ton 183 

the dry jest; the wise calculation of losses and expenditures; 
the dull, but endless, repetition of the Fulton folly. Never 
did a single encouraging remark, a bright hope, or a warm 
wish, cross my path. Silence itself was but politeness, veiling 
its doubts, or hiding its reproaches. At length the day arrived 
when the experiment was to be put into operation. To me it 
was a most trying and interesting occasion. I invited many 
friends to go on board to witness the first successful trip. 
Many of them did me the favor to attend, as a matter of per- 
sonal respect; but it was manifest that they did it with reluct- 
ance, fearing to be the partners of my mortification and not of 
my triumph. I was well aware, that in my case there were 
many reasons to doubt of my own success. The machinery 
was new and ill made; many parts of it were constructed by 
mechanics unaccustomed to such work ; and unexpected diffi- 
culties might reasonably be presumed to present themselves 
from other causes. The moment arrived in which the word 
was to be given for the vessel to move. My friends were in 
groups on the deck. There was anxiety, mixed with fear, 
among them. They were silent, and sad, and weary. I read 
in their looks nothing but disaster, and almost repented of my 
efforts. The signal was given, and the boat moved on a short 
distance, and then stopped, and became immovable. To the 
silence of the preceding moment now succeeded murmurs of 
discontent, and agitations, and whispers, and shrugs. I could 
hear distinctly repeated, 'I told you it would be so — it is a 
foolish scheme — I wish we were all out of it.' I elevated my- 
self upon a platform, and addressed the assembly. I stated 
that I knew not what was the matter ; but if they would be 
quiet, and indulge me for a half hour, I would either go on, or 
abandon the voyage for that time. This short respite was con- 
ceded without objection. I went below, examined the ma- 
chinery, and discovered that the cause was a slight malad- 
justment of some of the work. In a short period it was obvi- 



1 84 Capital, Stories About Famous Americans 

ated. The boat was again put in motion. She continued to 
move on. All were still incredulous. None seemed willing to 
trust the evidence of their own senses. We left the fair city of 
New York ; we passed through the romantic and ever-varying 
scenery of the highlands ; we descried the clustering houses of 
Albany ; we reached its shores ; and then, even then, when all 
seemed achieved, I was the victim of disappointment. Imagi- 
nation superseded the influence of fact. It was then doubted 
if it could be done again ; or if done, it was doubted if it could 
be made of any great value. 

"Such was the history of the first experiment, as it fell, not 
in the very language which I used, but in its substance, from 
the lips of the inventor. He did not live, indeed, to enjoy the 
full glory of his invention. It is mournful to say that attempts 
were made to rob him, in the first place, of the merit of his in- 
vention, and, next, of its fruits. He fell a victim to his efforts 
to sustain his title to both. When already his invention had 
covered the waters of the Hudson, he seemed little satisfied 
with the results, and looked forward to far more extensive 
operations. 'My ultimate triumph,' he used to say, 'my ulti- 
mate triumph will be on the Mississippi. I know, indeed, that 
even now, it is deemed impossible by many that the difficulties 
of navigation can be overcome, but I am confident of success. 
I may not live to see it; but the Mississippi will yet be cov- 
ered by steamboats ; and thus an entire change be wrought in 
the course of the internal navigation and commerce of our 
country.' " 

FREDERICK FUNSTON 

HOW HE WON HONORS 

'T^HOMAS R. DAWLEY, Jr., related some years ago in the 

-^ Success magazine, this striking story of a Kansas boy 

who, without friends or a pull of any kind, came to be a 



Frederick Funston 185 

Brigadier-General at thirty-eight. Dawley writes as follows : 
"Brigadier-General Frederick Funston made his own oppor- 
tunities and took the best advantage of them. He is a Kansan, 
and now, at the early age of thirty-eight, he finds himself the 
youngest officer in the regular army holding his high rank, 
with the prospect of becoming the Commander-in-Chief. 

"His beginning was small. In the summer of 1896, he ar- 
rived in New York with limited funds, and unknown. The 
newspapers were teeming with accounts of the struggles of the 
Cuban patriots, and Funston, fired with a desire for warfare, 
applied to the Cuban Junta for a chance to serve in its army. 
He met with little encouragement. The young Kansan, learn- 
ing the kind of field guns that were being sent to Cuba, applied 
to the New York agents for instructions in handling them. 
He was shown one of the guns and received a half-hour's in- 
struction in finding the range and sighting it. He then re- 
turned to the Cuban Junta, announced himself an artilleryman, 
and received a promise to be sent on the next expedition, 

"But there was no money in sight. The Cuban patriots were 
fighting without pay. The need of money appealed strongly 
to Funston. Having done some newspaper writing, he applied 
to several New York papers for a commission as a correspond- 
ent while serving in the Cuban army. He met with little en- 
couragement until the managing editor of Harper's Weekly 
promised to consider any article and illustrations he might 
send. Funston, armed with a commission, departed. 

"Early in the following year, I was directed to find General 
Gomez and his army, by Harper's Weekly. The editor told 
me that he had arranged with a little fellow from Kansas to 
send him information directly from the insurgents, but had re- 
ceived nothing from him. Consequently, when I joined 
Gomez, I was surprised to find only one American with him. 
I inquired for the 'little fellow from Kansas' who had been 
commissioned as a correspondent of my paper. 



i86 CAriTAi, Stories About Famous Americans 

" 'Oh, that's Funston,' said Smith ; 'he turned up at Cas- 
cara. I never saw anything hke it. The Cubans had a Hotch- 
kiss fieldpiece, and were trying to hit a Spanish blockhouse. 
They were shooting all around it, when little Funston said, 'Let 
me try.' They let him try, and he hit that blockhouse the first 
shot, and kept on hitting it. They were so tickled that they 
made him a colonel, and he is somewhere with Garcia.' 

"I did not meet Funston until after the breaking out of hos- 
tilities with Spain. I had been assigned by General Miles to 
the bureau of military intelligence, and was sent to Tampa, 
Florida. Funston had been appointed colonel of a Kansas reg- 
iment by the governor of his State; but, believing his knowl- 
edge of the Cubans would entitle him to a staff position, he 
went to Washington, and was ordered to the bureau. 

"I heard some talk around army headquarters, at Tampa 
Bay Hotel, of a stray colonel from the West, whose regiment 
had been ordered to the Philippines. He was described as a 
country, unmilitary-looking chap, and the questions of how he 
had received his appointment and why he had left his regiment 
were discussed. He was pointed out as the man with some 
political pull, and no previous military training, who would 
outrank officers of the regulars, who had grown gray in the 
service. 

"The next day, I observed a little man with a full beard 
sitting at one side of the foyer of the hotel. He was dressed 
in white duck trousers and a black jacket. A thin crop of hair 
on the top of his head showed a tendency to baldness. 

"If an ordinary tramp had been washed and dressed in a 
cheap suit of store goods, and set down in the luxuriously ap- 
pointed hotel, he could not have appeared more out of place 
than did that little man. Many of our army officers passed 
him, looking everywhere except in his direction. He not only 
seemed strangely out of place, but evidently felt that he was. 
Finally he came over to me and introduced himself: 



Frederick Funston 187 

" 'My name is Funston,' he said, 'and I heard of you in 
Cuba.' 

"I was pleased to talk with him, and we at once became 
friends. He had found a boarding-house on the other side of 
the river. After comparing notes, I concluded to try the table 
he recommended as being 'all right'; and during the rest of 
our stay in Tampa we boarded together. He was evidently 
as disappointed as I was, to learn that we were detailed to 
watch alleged Spanish spies in Tampa, when we supposed that 
we were going at the head of the army in Cuba as scouts, or 
volunteer aids. He was without a uniform, and Colonel Wag- 
oner, who was at the head of the bureau, gave him one of his 
old blouses, which Funston took to a tailor to be refitted. But 
there was something the matter with the tailor or the blouse 
or Funston ; he wore the garment with the Colonel's straps over 
his white trousers, and looked more out of place than ever. 

"On the return of Lieutenant Rowan from taking a message 
to Garcia, a story was circulated that Funston had deserted 
from the Cuban army. Funston and I had agreed that there 
was no Cuban army, nothing more than bands of bush- 
whackers ; and, when the story of his desertion was circulated 
with increased persistency, and its confirmation attributed to 
Lieutenant Rowan, he was greatly worried over the matter. 

"The facts of the case were these: Funston had endured 
the hardships of a year's campaign with the Cubans; he had 
fought faithfully for them without pay; had successfully han- 
dled their meagre artillery; and, at the end of the year, had 
applied for permission to return home. The permission was not 
forthcoming; finally, in a spirit of disgust, he mounted his 
horse, rode away from the Cuban camp, and, presenting him- 
self before a blockhouse on the Junero-Maron trocha, threw 
up his haittls and surrendered. The Spaniards took him in, 
fed him, and sent him to Consul-General Lee. Mr. Lee sent 
him home. Funston never betrayed the Cubans. 



i88 CAriTAi, Stories About Famous Americans 

"When he came to me in his trouble, I told him that he had 
only done precisely what 1 should have done under similar 
circumstances, and precisely what hundreds of Cubans had 
done during the insurrection. I advised him to retaliate by 
telling just what he did know about the Cubans. He answered 
that it did not pay to say anything against the Cubans, and he 
was right. 

"Nor did the Cuban politicians want anyone in the govern- 
ment service who knew too much about their methods in Cuba. 
Funston and I were both ostracized by them, and efforts were 
made to have us discharged from the service. They were suc- 
cessful. Colonel Wagner called me into his private ofifice and 
informed me that I was discharged. He very generously gave 
me a written statement, commending my services, and dis- 
charged me. 

"I felt very much chagrined at the turn affairs had taken, 
for I had endeavored to give exact information concerning the 
Cuban army, just as I had found it in the woods of Cuba. 
Finding myself ignominiously cast aside, I went to Funston 
with the news. 

"Funston was living down the prejudice against him that 
had been cultivated by some of the army officers, and was 
trying to get a position on the staff of General Wheeler. The 
latter appeared to favor him, but the appointment had to be 
made from Washington, and he could not get it. 

" 'Well,' he said, seeming to lose hope, *I don't suppose 
there is anything for me to do but stick to the 'spy bureau!' 
That was what he called the exalted department of military 
information. 

"About half an hour later I met him on the street. He was 
coming from Colonel Wagner's headquarters. He had a very 
long face. I knew some disappointment had occurred, and 
questioned him. 

" 'I have been fired from the 'spy bureau/ too,' he replied. 



Lyman G. Gag^ iS^ 

"He was disheartened and disgusted over his discharge. 
His aim had been to go to Cuba and take an active part in the 
campaign. He wanted to show his mettle. But it seemed that 
there was not the slightest chance for him to display his cour- 
age. However, he had his volunteer regiment to fall back on. 
He secured transportation to San Francisco and the salary due 
him up to the date of his discharge, and left Tampa. 

" 'Perhaps it is the best thing for me, after all,' he said, as 
he folded his papers and pvit the money in his pocket. Til 
join my regiment in the Philippines, and, perhaps, there wilt 
be something doing out there.' 

"We all know the rest. We know how Funston swam the 
river and charged the Filipinos in their trenches, and was re- 
warded by promotion to the rank of Brigadier-General of Vol- 
unteers. This appointment expired on June i, 1900. Funston 
knew that his only chance to prove his worth and gain a lasting- 
rank was to do something definite, something that would ap- 
peal to the entire nation. What could that be but the capture 
of Aguinaldo? That was the thing to be done. He worked 
out the plan, made the opportunity, took advantage of it, and 
received his reward." 

LYMAN J. GAGE 

A CONGRESSMAN WHO WAS HARD OF HEARING 

AN incident which has caused Secretary Gage to be ex- 
-^ ceedingly cautious of "deaf men" occurred recently. 

Congressman John H. Ketcham, of Dover Plains, New 
York, is more or less hard of hearing. He holds his hand up 
to his ear while you are addressing him, and manages to catch 
your meaning fairly well. Just how much he hears is open 
to question, and the Secretary of the Treasury, for one, has his 
own suspicions that "Uncle John" is not quite so deaf as he 
appears. It happened this way : 



190 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

Mr. Ketcham had been in Congress so long that he had used 
up all the patronage to which he was entitled, and couldn't 
get any more places for his constituents. But one day this 
spring he called on Mr. Gage. 

"There is a man up in my town," he explained, "who must 
be fixed, and I want you to fix him." 

"I can't do it," replied Gage (and up went Ketcham's hand 
to his ear), "because there are no vacancies in my department." 

"Yes, that's what he wants," said Ketcham, "a place in your 
department." 

The Secretary looked at his visitor intently, and said, in a 
low^er tone: 

"The civil service rules cover all appointments under twelve 
hundred or fifteen hundred dollars a year," 

Mr. Ketcham removed his hand from his right ear and re- 
plied : 

"That will be satisfactory. He will not expect more than 
twelve hundred dollars a year." 

Mr, Gage was growing desperate. 

"I tell you," he fairly yelled, "I can't do anything for your 
man. There is no use bringing him down here !" 

"All right !" said the imperturbable Congressman, rising, 
"I'll bring him down," and out he walked, leaving the Secre- 
tary in a state of collapse. 

Sure enough, a day or two later, the deaf man walked in 
with a constituent, 

"Here is my friend that you promised to place," he said. 

"Good Lord!" said Gage (and up went the other's hand), 
"didn't I tell you I could do nothing, absolutelv nothing?" 

"Hey?" 

"Didn't I tell you not to bring your man here, because I had 
no place for him ?" 

"No ; you said you would give him a place at about twelve 
hundred dollars ; so I sent for him, and here he is." 



John B. Gough 191 

The Secretary was in despair. He looked the Congressman 
in the face, — it was a blank. In sheer desperation he tapped 
a bell for an assistant, told the latter to take the constituent 
to Mr. B , and, if possible, to find him a place. The Con- 
gressman shook hands all around, and departed with an ex- 
pression of benevolence on his countenance. 

The man got a fairly good place. The Congressman is still 
rather deaf. The Secretary — well, he has his own suspicions. 

JOHN B. GOUGH 

THE TAP ON THE SHOULDER 

JOHN B. GOUGH, the famous temperance orator, tells this 
striking story of the beginning of his redemption from 
strong drink. He says : 

"Some one tapped me on the shoulder, an unusual thing 
that, to occur to me ; for no one now cared to come in contact 
with the wretched, shabby looking drunkard. I was a disgrace, 
'a living, walking disgrace.' I could scarcely believe my own 
senses when I turned and met a kind look; the thing was so 
unusual, and so entirely unexpected, that I questioned' the 
reality of it, — but so it was. It was the first touch of kindness 
which I had known for months; it went right to my heart, 
and, like the wing of an angel, troubled the waters in that 
stagnant pool of affection, and made them once more reflect 
a little of the light of human love. The person who touched 
my shoulder was an entire stranger. Regarding me very 
earnestly, and apparently with much interest, he said : 

"'Mr. Gough, I believe?' 

" 'That is my name,' I replied, and was passing on. 

" 'You have been drinking to-day,' said the stranger, in a 
kind voice, which arrested my attention, and quite dispelled 
any anger at what I might otherwise have considered an of- 
ficious interference in my affairs. 



192 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

" 'Yes, sir,' I replied, 'I have.' 

" 'Why do you not sign the pledge?' was the next query. 

''I considered for a minute or two, and then informed the 
■strange friend, who had so unexpectedly interested himself in 
my behalf, that 1 had no hope of ever again becoming a sober 
man ; that I was without a single friend in the world who cared 
for me, or what became of me ; that I fully expected to die very 
soon, — I cared not how soon, or whether I died drunk or sober ; 
and, in fact, that I was in a condition of utter recklessness. 

"The stranger regarded me with a benevolent look, took me 
by the arm, and asked me how I should like to be as I once was, 
respectable and esteemed, well clad, and sitting as I used to, 
in a place of worship; enabled to meet my friends as in old 
times, and receive from them the pleasant nod of recognition as 
formerly, — in fact, become a useful member of society? 'Oh,' 
I replied, 'I should like all these things first rate; but I have no 
expectation that such a thing will ever happen. Such a change 
•cannot be possible.' 

" 'Only sign our pledge,' remarked my friend, 'and I will 
warrant that it shall be so. Sign it, and I will introduce you 
myself to good friends, who will feel an interest in your wel- 
fare and take a pleasure in helping you to keep your good res- 
olutions. Only, Mr. Gough, sign the pledge, and all will be as 
I have said ; ay, and more too ?' 

"Oh ! how pleasantly fell these words of kindness and 
promise on my crushed and bruised heart. I had long been a 
stranger to feelings such as now awoke in my bosom. A chord 
had been touched which vibrated to the tone of love. Hope 
once more dawned; and I began to think, strange as it ap- 
peared, that such things as my friend promised me might 
come to pass. On the instant I resolved to try, at least, and 
said to the stranger: 

" 'Well, I will sign it.' 

"'When?' he asked. 



John B. Gough 193 

"'I cannot do so to-night,' I replied, 'for I 7nust have some 
more drink presently; but I certainly will to-morrow.' 

" 'We have a temperance meeting to-morrow evening,' he 
said ; 'will you sign it then ?' 

" 'I will.' 

" 'That is right,' said he, grasping my hand ; 'I will be there 
to see you?' 

" 'You shall,' I remarked, and we parted. 

"I went on my way much touched by the kind interest 
which, at last, some one had taken in my welfare. I said to my- 
self : 'If it should be the last act of my life, I will perform my 
promise and sign it, even though I die in the attempt ; for that 
man has placed confidence in me, on that account I love him.' 

A BATTLE FOR LIFE 

Gough tells this thrilling story of his wonderful battle 
against appetite after he had signed the pledge. The story 
begins with the next morning: 

"After breakfast, I proceeded to the shop where I was 
employed, feeling dreadfully ill. I determined, however, to put 
a bold face on the matter, and, in spite of the cloud which 
seemed to hang over me, attempt to work. I was exceedingly 
weak, and fancied, as I almost reeled about the shop, that every 
eye was fixed upon me suspiciously, although I exerted myself 
to the utmost to conceal my agitation. I was sufi^cring ; and 
those who have never thus suffered cannot comprehend it. 
The shivering of the spine ; then, flushes of heat, causing every 
pore of the body to sting, as if punctured with some sharp in- 
strument ; the horrible whisperings in the ear, combined with a 
longing cry of the whole system for stimulants : 'One glass of 
brandy would steady my shaking nerves ; I cannot hold my 
hands still ; I cannot stand still ; a young man but twenty-five 
years of age, and I have no control of my nerves ; one glass 
of brandy would relieve this annoying, aching, throbbing 



194 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

stomach ; but I have signed the pledge, — I do agree that I will 
not use it, — and I must fight it out.' How I got through the 
day I cannot tell. I went to my employer at one time during 
the day and said: 

" 'I signed the pledge last night.' 

" 'I know you did.' 

" 'I mean to keep it.' 

" 'So they all say, and I hope you will.' 

" 'You do not believe I will ; you have no confidence in me.' 

" 'None whatever.' 

"I turned to my work, broken-hearted, crushed in spirit, 
paralyzed in energy, feeling how low I had sunk in the esteem 
of prudent and sober-minded men. Suddenly the small iron 
bar I held in my hand began to move ; I felt it move, I griped 
it, — still it moved and twisted ; I gripped still harder, — yet the 
thing would move till I could feel it — yes, feci it — tearing the 
palm out of my hand, then I dropped it, — and there it lay, a 
curling, slimy snake ! I could hear the paper shavings rustle 
as the horrible thing writhed before me! If it had been a 
snake, I should not have minded it. I was never afraid of a 
snake ; I should have called some one to look at it ; I could 
have killed it. I should not have been terrified at a thing; but 
I knew it was a cold, dead bar of iron, and there it was, with 
its green eyes, its forked, darting tongue, curling in all its 
slimy loathsomeness ! and the horror filled me so that my hair 
seemed to stand up and shiver, and my skin lift from the scalp 
to the ankles, and I groaned out, 'I cannot fight this through! 
Oh ! my God, I shall die ! I cannot fight it !' — when a gentle- 
man came into the shop with a cheerful — 

" 'Good morning, Mr. Gough.' 

" 'Good morning, sir.' 

" 'I saw you sign the pledge last night.' 

" 'Yes, sir, I did it.' 
'I was very glad to see you do it, and many young men 



John B. Gough 195 

followed your example. It is just such men as you that we 
want, and 1 hope you will be the means of doing a great deal 
of good. My office is in the Exchange; come in and see me. 
I shall be happy to make your acquaintance. I have only a 
minute or two to spare, but I thought I would just call in and 
tell you to keep up a brave heart. Good-bye; God bless you. 
Come in and see me.' 

"That was Jesse Goodrich, then a practicing attorney and 
counselor-at-law, in Worcester, now dead, but to the last of 
his life my true and faithful friend. It would be impossible 
to describe how this little act of kindness cheered me. With 
the exception of Joel Stratton, who was a waiter at a tem- 
perance hotel, and who had asked me to sign the pledge, no 
one had accosted me for months in a manner which would lead 
me to think any one cared for me, or what might be my fate. 
Now I was not altogether alone in the world ; there was a hope 
of my being rescued from the 'slough of despond,' where I 
had been so long floundering. I felt that the fountain of human 
kindness was not utterly sealed up, and again a green spot, an 
oasis — small indeed, but cheering — appeared in the desert of 
life. I had something now to live for; a new desire fpr life 
seemed suddenly to spring up ; the universal boundary of 
human sympathy included even my wretched self in its cheer- 
ing circle. All these sensations were generated by a few kind 
words at the right time. Yes, now I can fight, — and I did 
fight, six days and six nights, — encouraged and helped by a 
few words of sympathy. He said, come in and see me; I 
will. He said he would be pleased to make my acquaintance; 
he shall. He said, keep up a brave heart; by God's help, I 
will. And encouraged, I fought on, with not one hour of 
healthy sleep, not one particle of food passing my lips, for six 
days and nights. What a lesson of love should not this teach 
us'l" 

But the struggle was not over. Gough paints a horrible 



196 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

picture of a night when : "Horrible faces glared upon me from 
the walls — faces ever changing, and displaying new and still 
more horrible features ; black, bloated insects crawled over my 
face ; and myriads of burning, concentric rings were revolving 
incessantly. At one moment the chamber appeared as red as 
blood, and in a twinkling it was dark as the charnel-house. I 
seemed to have a knife with hundreds of blades in my hand, 
everv blade driven through the flesh, and all so inextricably 
bent and tangled together that I could not withdraw them for 
some time; and when I did, from my lacerated fingers the 
bloody fibres would stretch out all quivering with life. After 
a frightful paroxysm of this kind, I would start like a maniac 
from my bed, and beg for life, life! What I of late thought 
so worthless, seemed now to be of unappreciable value. I 
dreaded to die, and clung to existence with a feeling that my 
soul's salvation depended on a little more of life. A great por- 
tion of this time I spent alone ; no mother's hand was near to 
wipe the big drops of perspiration from my brow ; no kind 
voice cheered me in my solitude. Alone I encountered all the 
host of demoniac forms which crowded my chamber. No 
one witnessed my agonies, or counted my w^oes, and yet I re- 
covered ; how, still remains a mystery to myself ; and still more 
mysterious was the fact of my concealing my sufferings from 
every mortal eye. 

"In a week, I gained, in a great degree, the mastery over 
my accursed appetite; but the strife had made me dreadfully 
weak. Gradually my health improved, my spirits recovered, 
and I ceased to despair. Once more was I enabled to crawl 
into the sunshine; but, oh, how changed! Wan cheeks and 
hollow eyes, feeble limbs, and almost powerless hands, plainly 
enough indicated that between me and death there had indeed 
been but a step; and those who saw me, might say, as was 
said of Dante when he passed through the streets of Florence : 
'There's the man that has been in hell.' " 



John B. Gough 197 

THE TRANSFORMATION OF "HELL-FIRE" 

Mr. Gough tells this remarkable story of the redemption of 
a Scotch woman in Glasgow : 

"On one occasion as I entered the audience room, where 
some hundreds had assembled, with the Provost of the Bor- 
ough and the minister of the town who accompanied me, the 
former said, as we came in : 'Mr. Gough, you have 'Fire' in 
the house to-night.' 

"I asked, 'What do you mean?' 

"He said, 'Do you see that tall woman, near the platform?' 

" 'Yes.' 

" 'Her nickname is 'Hell-Fire ;' she is known by no other 
name in the vicinity of her wretched residence. When she 
appears in the streets, the boys cry, 'Fire ! Fire !' She is the 
most incorrigible woman in the borough. She has been 
brought before me scores of times, and sentenced to from four 
days to six months. She is ripe for mischief, and if she makes 
a disturbance, you will see such a row as you never saw be- 
fore. The power of the woman's tongue in blasphemy is hor- 
rible.' 

"When I rose to address the audience I expected a row, 
and confessed to a nervous feeling of apprehension. I spoke 
to them as men and women, not as outcasts, or things. I told 
them poverty was hard to bear ; but there might be comfort, 
light and peace with poverty ; I told them I had been poor, very 
poor ; spoke to them of my mother and her struggles ; then of 
her faith, and love, and hope; that there was no degradation 
in poverty — only sin caused that. In proportion to wrong- 
doing was the degradation, — and so on, I saw a naked arm 
and hand lifted in the crowd, and heard a voice cry out : 
'That's all true ;' the woman ('Fire') rose to her feet, and facing 
me said : 'That's a' true, mon, — ye're telling the truth ;' and 
stretching her arms to the audience said : 'The mon kens what 
he's talking aboot.' 



198 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"When I concluded, she came on the platform and I almost 
thought she might tackle me. She was a large woman, and 
looked like a hard hitter, and I never desired to come in con- 
tact with 'strong-minded' or big-fisted women ; but after look- 
ing at me a moment, she said : *Tak' a gude look at me, mon. 
I'm a bit of a beauty, ain't I?' Then, coming close to me, 
'Would you gi'e a body like me the pledge?' 

"I answered at once, 'Yes, ma'am.' 

"A gentleman said : "She cannot keep it ; she will be drunk 
before she goes to bed to-night; — ^better not give her the 
pledge.' 

"I turned to her: 'Madam, here is a gentleman who says 
you cannot keep it if you sign it.' 

"Clenching her fists, she said, 'Show me the mon.' 

"I asked, 'Can you keep it?' 

" 'Can I ?— If I say I wull, I can.' 

" 'Then say you will.' 

" 'I wull' 

" 'Give me your hand on that,' — and I shook hands with 
her. She signed it, and I said: 'I know you will keep it; and 
before I go to America I will come and see you.' 

" 'Come and see me when you wull,' she answered, 'and 
you'll find I ha'e keepit it.' 

"It must have been two years from that time, I was speak- 
ing there again, and after the lecture, a gentleman said to me : 
'I wish to introduce to you an old friend, whom perhaps you 
have forgotten, — 'Mrs. Archer,' no longer 'Fire.' 

"I was introduced and shook hands heartily with her and 
her daughter, who sat by her. I had noticed the woman dur- 
ing my speech, for she hardly took her eyes off me from the 
time I rose till I sat down. I went to her house, and part of 
what she said to me was this: 

" 'Ah ! Mr. Gough, I'm a puir body ; I dinna ken much, 
and what little I ha'e kenned has been knocked out of me bv 



John B. Gough 199 

the staffs of the poHcemen; for they beat me aboot the head 
a good deal, and knocked prutty much a' the sense out of me ; 
but sometimes I ha'e a dream — I dream I'm drunk, and ficht- 
ing, and the pohce ha'e got me again ; and then I get out of 
my bed, and I go down on my knees, and I don't go back to 
my bed till the daylight comes, and I keep saying: 'God keep 
me — for I canna get drunk any mair.' 

"Her daughter said : 'Aye, mon ; I've heered my mither in 
the dead of night, on the bare floor, crying 'God keep me;' and 
I've said, — 'Come to your bed, mither, ye'll be cauld;' and 
she'll tell me, 'No, no, — I canna get drunk any mair.' 

"I received a letter from the provost of the borough, dated 
February, 1869, telling me that Mrs. Archer ('Fire') had been 
faithful to her promise, was keeping a small provision store 
or shop ; had taken a little orphan boy out of the streets, and 
was bringing him up welL" and sending me her photograph. 
I had heard from various sources she was doing well, and 
doing good. Soon after she had signed the pledge, she ob- 
tained employment in sewing coarse sacks, and earned about 
ten cents per day. Some one gave her a Bible, and wet or 
dry, rain or shine, she would go every Sabbath to the mission 
chapel. There she became a Christian ; and I was told that she 
employed her spare time in endeavoring to reform others." 

EMBARRASSING GRATITUDE 

Mr, Gough tells this fascinating story of the gratitude of 
an Englishman whom he had been instrumental in rescuing 
from the life of a drunkard : 

"A man came to me at Covent Garden and said: 
" 'Mr. Gough, I want you to come into my place of busi- 
ness.' 

" 'I'm in a Httle hurry now,' I replied. 

" 'You must come into my place of business.' 

*'So when he got me there — into a large fruit store, where 



200 CAriTAL S'foRiE;s About Famous Ame;ricans 

he was doing business to the amount of two hundred and fifty 
or three hundred pounds ($1,250 or $1,500) a week, — he 
caught me by the hand and said : 

" 'God bless you, sir !' 

"'What for?' 

" 'I heard you in Exeter Hall a year and a half ago, and 
signed the pledge. I was a brute.' 

" 'No, you were not.' 

" 'Well, I was worse.' 

" 'No, you were not.' 

" 'Well, I was as bad as I could be. Look at that cellar ! 
I spent a whole Sunday in that cellar on a heap of rotten vege- 
tables with a rope to hang myself by! Now sir, I lease that 
cellar and clear a hundred pounds a year. God bless you, sir ! 
See what a business I'm doing. Look here ! See that woman 
in the corner? She's my wife. La! how I have knocked her 
about. Would you go and shake hands with her ?' 

" 'I've no objection.' 

" 'Do, sir.' 

"I went up to her and offered her my hand. She held back, 
and said, 'My fingers are so sticky with the fruit, sir.' 

" 'La !' said the husband, 'Mr. Gough don't mind sticky 
fingers.' 

" 'No, sir,' and I shook hands with her. Our fingers stuck 
together ! They were stickier than I expected. Again the 
man said: 

" 'God bless you, sir ! I wish to give you something. Do 
you like oranges?' 

" 'Sometimes.' 

"He went to a shelf that was full of them, and began to 
fill a great bag. 

" 'That's enough,' I said : 

"But he paid no attention, and went on filling the bag. 
Then he put it in my arms, and said : 



HeiwEn Miller Gould 201 

" 'There ! Don't say a word ; but go along. God bless 
you !' 

"I had positively to hire a cab to take me home." 

THE KINDNESS OF THE SCOTCH LASSIES 

Gough gives this pretty little glimpse of the love which 
the Scotch people came to have for him. He says : 

"One day, when strolling through Edinburgh, I saw a 
group of young girls standing in front of their school in the 
Canongate, looking toward me on the opposite side of the 
street. Soon they crossed and walked near me. One of them 
said very modestly : 

" 'Mr. Gough ha'e ye ony objection to us lassies walkin wi' 
ye?' 

" 'Oh, no,' I responded, 'indeed I have not.' 

" 'We've heerd ye speak in the Music Hall, an' we're a' 
teetotalers.' 

"Presently they reached the hotel where Mr. Gough was 
quartered. Here one said : 

" 'We'll ye ha'e ony objections to sliakin' hands wi' us 
lassies ?' 

"As I took their hands, I heard in that sweet, low Scotch 
tone : 

" 'Ye'U soon be gangin' awa' frae Edinburgh, and we'll 
"weary for ye to come back again. Gude-bye to ye.' " 

HELEN MILLER GOULD 

AT MONTAUK POINT 

IV /TISS GOULD'S practical business sense was beautifully 
^-^^ exemplified at Montauk Point. Hundreds of soldiers 
from the hospitals in Cuba and Porto Rico were suddenly un- 
loaded there. Elsewhere were government supplies, — tents 
and cots and rations, — but there the sick soldiers were with- 



202 Capita:. Stories About Famous Americans 

out shelter, were hungry, had no medicine, and were sleeping 
on the ground. 

Why? Because of red tape. This young lady appeared in 
person, and amazed the strutters in shoulder-straps and the 
slaves to discipline, by having the sick soldier boys made com- 
fortable on army cots, placed in army tents, and fed on army 
rations, — and this, too, without any "requisition." She grasped 
a situation, cut the ropes of theory and introduced practice. 
From her own purse she provided nurses and dainties, and 
sent scores of soldier boys to her beautiful villa on the Hudson. 

The camp rang with this refrain : 

"You're the angel of the camp, 

Helen Gould, 
In the sun-rays, in the damp, 
On the weary, weary tramp, 
To our darkness you're a lamp, 

Helen Gould. 

"Thoughts of home and gentle things, 

Helen Gould, 
To the camp your coming brings ; 
All the place with music rings 
At the rustle of your wings, 

Helen Gould." 

THE FINEST SAILORS' CLUB IN THE WORLD 

At the close of the Spanish-American War, our other 
philanthropist, a sweet-faced dark-haired young woman, was 
talking with a group of "jackies." They told her their troubles. 
Most of her friends do this because she is a millionaire in 
sympathy as well as in dollars. The "jackies" told her that 
they had no land home, no place but the saloons, where only 
the spenders arc welcome. 




JOHN B, GOUGH 

HENRY WARD BEECHER 
JOHN BURROUGHS 



CHARLES WILLIAM ELIOT 
T. DeWITT TALMAGE 

CLINTON B FISK 



Helen Miller Gould 205 

"Wait a year and you shall have the best club-house in 
New York," said she. 

Next day her architect was sent for. 

''Such a club-house will be very expensive," he said. "It 
will cost four hundred and fifty thousand dollars." 

"Begin to-morrow," said this young woman with the quiet, 
decisive ways ; "and let me see all the plans." 

In a year there stood near the Brooklyn Navy Yard the 
most unique and magnificent sailors' club in the world. Nine 
stories of brick and granite — ten stories if you count the 
roof-garden, with its flowers and electric lights ! And such 
a complete building! Nothing has been forgotten. If a boy 
in blue wants lodging, he gets a bed for twenty-five cents. If 
he is hungry, he gets good food at the poor food price — for 
example, coffee and rolls for a nickel. If he wants a bath he 
opens the bath-room door and finds a swimming-pool as big as 
a parlor. If he wants clean linen, or a shave, or a shine, or 
a book, or a telephone, or a game of billiards, he can have 
them all. Everything is first-class. Even the glass of water 
that he drinks comes from a private artesian well. 

It is easy to see that the young woman revised the plans. 
What mere man architect would have arranged for six hun- 
dred and fifty-six lockers? Here, at last, is a building with 
enough closet-room. What masculine architect, with pockets, 
would have thought of a free deposit safe for money and 
valuables? What practical male builder would have found 
a place for a dark room for amateur photographers? Or for 
a laundry with electric flat-irons ? 

This philanthropist, too, is busy signing checks and manag- 
ing her properties ; but she has time to visit the sailors' club 
on Sundays, when meetings are held in its little theatre. She 
has time to show the boys that she can knock down the pins 
in the bowling-alley as well as any of them. She has time to 
send them some of the rare paintings from her Fifth Avenue 



2o6 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

home. She has time to accept the bouquets of roses that they 
buy for her. 

Such is our second philanthropist. Is it any wonder that 
Admiral Dewey once made the remark, "If the men on the 
American battleships had their way, there would be a statue 
of Helen Gould on every fighting craft that flies the Stars and 
Stripes." 

ULYSSES S. GRANT 

A NEW HORSE 

EX-SENATOR JOHN P. JONES not long ago told a 
story of General Grant and Roscoe Conkling, illustra- 
tive of Grant's love for horses. He said : 

"President Grant and Conkling were alike only in 
one particular. Neither knew anything about the mean 
art of assembling or conserving money. The result was 
that both were always hard up. Next to his family 
and his friends, Grant loved a good horse better than anything 
else in the world. A butcher in Washington owned one of the 
finest driving horses I ever saw, and from the moment Grant 
clapped his eyes on that proud, high-stepping animal his very 
soul yearned to possess it. He dared not tell anybody of his 
desire to own the horse because he feared some overzealous 
friend or scheming lobbyist would buy it and give it to him. 
Only to me did he confide this secret of his heart — for such it 
really was. 

"I watched developments with keen interest, confident what 
the outcome would be in spite of my knowledge that Grant 
was never harder up than he was just then. Congress had not 
at that time increased the President's salary from twenty-five 
thousand dollars to fifty thousand dollars, and Grant actually 
needed every cent of his salary to make both ends meet. But 
just as I confidently expected, it wasn't long before Grant 



UivYSSES S. Grant 207 

bought the butcher's horse — he had to give six hundred dollars 
for it. The day after the purchase Grant invited Conkling and 
me to see the horse, though just why he wanted Conkling — 
who cared nothing at all for horses — to come along I was un- 
able to guess, unless it was that he wanted to get another lec- 
ture from the imperious New Yorker for extravagance. The 
horse was tethered in the back lot of the White House. 

" 'Isn't he fine, Jones ?' Grant said to me. 

"I assented. 

" 'Don't you think he's magnificent, Conkling?' Grant then 
exclaimed, stroking the animal's fine mane. 

" *I guess he'll do,' replied Conkling. 'But how much did 
you give for him ?' 

" 'Six hundred dollars,' responded Grant. 

" 'Umph !' snapped Conkling. 'All I've got to say is that I 
would rather have six hundred dollars than the horse.' 

" 'That's what the butcher thought,' said Grant, as he 
nudged me in the ribs with an elbow. 

"And Conkling, tossing his nose in the air, strode majesti- 
cally back to the White House ahead of us, and didn't even 
wait to say 'Good-day' to the President." 

LACK OF BUTTER GAVE HIM A START 

Eager, panting, breathless from a long run in the fresh 
morning air, a youth, between sixteen and seventeen years old, 
presented himself before the representative of his district. 

"Mr. Hammer," he began, without parley or preamble, 
"will you appoint me to West Point ?" 

Looking at him in amazement, the Congressman promptly 
replied, "No, Davis is there, and has three years to serve." 

"But suppose he should fail," continued the boy, "would 
you send me?" 

"If he doesn't go through," replied the Congressman, "it is 
no use for you to try, Uly." 



2oS Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

"Promise that you will give me the chance, anyhow, Mr. 
Hammer," urged the youth. 

The promise was readily given, and, much to the Congress- 
man's astonishment, he was called upon the next day to make 
it good. Davis, the defeated candidate, returned home, and 
Ulysses S. Grant, receiving the appointment to West Point, 
took his first step toward being a general and holding the 
liighest office in the gift of his countrymen, — that of President 
of the United States. 

On that eventful morning, which marked the turning point 
in his life, Grant's mother, through some oversight, found her- 
self without butter for breakfast, and sent the lad to borrow 
some from a neighbor. Entering the house to which he had 
been sent, without knocking, he overheard the reading of a 
letter from young Davis, stating that he had failed in his West 
Point examination, and would return home. 

Quick as lightning, Grant's resolve was made. Getting the 
butter, he rushed home, and, without waiting for breakfast, 
ran to the office of the district Congressman, and begged for 
the appointment to West Point, as he knew that one must soon 
be made. 

In telling the story in after years. General Grant was wont 
to add: "Now, it was my mother's being without butter that 
made me a General and President." 

GRANT AT LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN 

Congressman R. H. Freer tells this interesting story of 
Lookout Mountain : 

"The Battle of Lookout Mountain undoubtedly led to 
Grant's appointment to the position of Commander-in-Chief of 
the army. General Rosecrans had been overwhelmingly de- 
feated, and the troops under him were penned up at Chicka- 
mauga, hungry, ragged and discouraged, facing starvation or 
surrender, with General Bragg looking down from the heights 



Ulysses S. Grant 209' 

upon us and counting the hours until we should be sent to the 
South under guard as his prisoners. 

"At this most disheartening time, General Grant came to 
take command, and to get us out of the trap. His first move 
was to get us something to eat, for we were on a half ration 
of hardtack and what the boys called 'beef dried on the hoof,' 
which the flesh of the starved animals certainly resembled. 
Within five days of General Grant's arrival the famous 'cracker 
line' was established. General Bragg held such a position that,, 
although we were only twenty-six miles from our supplies by 
rail, they had to be dragged sixty miles over all but impassable 
mountain roads. The rebel chieftain saw the advantage of 
maintaining this state of things, and made an attempt to break 
the 'cracker line.' General Hooker ordered General Howard 
to protect it, and Howard made a dash up the hill in the dark 
and did good work, but the 'line' was really saved by an 
occurrence strangely resembling a recent South African inci- 
dent. The mules attached to his command became frightened 
and stampeded toward the enemy, who, supposing that this 
was a charge, in turn, stampeded and fled. Thus the 'cracker 
line' was preserved, never to be again attacked. We were now 
put on full rations, and this, with General Grant's strong, re- 
assuring presence, made new men of us. There was one regi- 
ment of mere boys, the Eighty-sixth Ohio. The Colonel was 
only twenty-three years old, and one of his companies had 
just one man old enough to be really entitled to the name, 
and to vote. The youthful appearance of this regiment is best 
described by relating an incident that occurred when we were 
detailed to take charge of a lot of tall, lean Georgians, who had 
been taken prisoners. I was at the rear end of my company, 
being the smallest and youngest, — just fifteen years old. An 
especially tall and strapping Georgian leaned over and drawled 
out : 'Whar did you 'uns git that thar regiment ?' 

"I bristled up and replied indignantly : 'In Ohio, sir.' 



210 CAriTAiv Stories About Famous Americans 

" 'Well, you 'uns must have bruk up every school in the 
State to get it. Why, them kids ain't old enough to chaw 
tubacker,' he replied. 

"Only half of these boys ever returned to their homes and 
their schools, and but one-half of those who survived the war 
are now alive. Our young Colonel, Wilson E. Lemert, showed 
us at our last reunion a picture of his trained horse that we 
saw shot under him the day of the wonderful rush up the 
mountain. We could then only replace his beautiful black 
horse with a big white mule. On this he led us into the thick- 
est of the fight. Perhaps we boys would have seen more if 
we had not pulled our caps down so closely and attended so 
strictly to the business of getting up to that first line of rifle- 
pits, which we were ordered to take, and then to stop and re- 
form. When we reached this point, however, our ranks were 
swept by a sudden and mighty impulse. There was no waiting 
for new orders then ; as one man, we dashed up and over the 
second line of defense, until we were so close upon the enemy 
that their rear comrades could not shoot us without endanger- 
ing those in front; and, when we reached the top, we were 
upon the heels of the last man in gray going down the other 
side. 

"This battle, fought partly above the clouds, is said to 
have been won by General Grant and the private soldiers, and 
so it was, for we had learned to know and trust him at Vicks- 
burg. 

"I was an orderly on General Grant's staff, and was sent 
one day with dispatches on his fine little black horse, loaned 
me for the occasion. As I returned with the replies, I rushed 
around a bend in the road into what looked like a full brigade 
of the enemy. I wheeled and started to run for it, with, it 
seemed to me, every 'reb' in the lot shooting at me. My horse 
was shot, and I went flying over his head. I landed on all 
fours, and continued on my way in this position, as I had 



Ulysses S. Grant 211 

neither time to get up nor desire to be a more conspicuous 
mark, until I got around that bend in the road. Then I made 
record-breaking time to our camp. I ran up, all covered with 
blood and dust, and handed my dispatches to a lieutenant, who 
gave them to the General. After reading the dispatches, the 
great commander turned and looked me over in his quiet way, 
and said, 'Give this orderly another horse.' He must have been 
angry, too, at my losing his favorite horse. 

"I heard General Grant say to General Thomas, just before 
the famous charge up the hill : 'If we don't win this fight, I 
know one General who will lose his shoulder-straps.' He 
looked keenly at Thomas, as he said it in his quiet, earnest 
way, and, turning on his heel, walked to his tent. There had 
been some friction between them, owing to General Grant's 
superseding the other General in the full command. 

"The next time I saw General Grant was during the year 
1872. I was introduced to him in Washington, by a Senator 
from our State, as the newly-appointed Consul to Nicaragua. 
I said, 'General, we have met before, — at Vicksburg.' He gave 
me one long, earnest look, and said, 'Yes, you are the boy who 
got my horse shot.' 

"The President seemed genuinely pleased at meeting me 
again, and inquired whether my consular appointment suited 
me, adding: 

" 'Why did you not come to me direct ? I would have 
found you something better.' 

"But I was contented and told him so, being especially 
pleased with his remembrance of me and the acknowledgment 
of his appreciation of my services. I went to Nicaragua, and 
never saw the great leader again." 

GRANT'S PONY 

Albert D. Richardson gives this amusing little incident con- 
nected with Grant's military life on the Mississippi : 



212 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"It was five o'clock when the httle Union fleet got off. On 
the headquarters boat, Hillyer was missed, and it was feared 
he was killed; but he turned up uninjured. The next ques- 
tion was, 'What had been done with the General's horse?' 
While it was being discussed, and Bob kept himself safely out 
of sight, a quartermaster invited Grant to the lower deck, 
saying : 

" 'Come, General, and see what a pretty rebel pony I have 
<:aptured.' 

"Grant, upon viewing it, seemed greatly surprised, and 
then said, smilingly : 

" 'Why, captain, this is my pony ; I am very glad you saved 
him for me.' 

"Just then Bob came up with a most sheepish expression. 

" 'You rascal,' asked Rawlins, sternly, 'why didn't you 
take better care of the General's pony?' 

"The darky, who stammered badly, replied as quick as 
he could get the unwilling words out : 

" 'I reckon General Grant thinks a horse wuf mor'n a 
nigger, but a nigger's wuf more to me !' " 

WHO STOLE THE HONEY 

During Grant's expedition into Kentucky one morning the 
good woman of the house where the General and his staff had 
spent the night, complained that the Twenty-second Illinois 
Volunteers had stolen the honeycomb from her bee-hives, and 
Grant indignantly ordered that they be punished. The regi- 
ment was drawn up in a hollow square, and Hillyer in a speech 
of proper rhetoric told the men that the General, who had ad- 
mired their bravery at Belmont, was deeply grieved at their 
present misconduct. A fine of five dollars was Imposed upon 
each officer, and one dollar upon each private. 

When the march was renewed. Grant rode along to the 
front and was greeted with cheers by regiment after regi- 



Ulysses S. Grant 213 

ment. But the Twenty-second received him with ominous 
silence, and when he had passed on gave an illustration of the 
democratic spirit of volunteers. The men shouted : 

"Who stole the honey ?" 

Then they answered in deep tones : 

"General Grant's body-guard." 

"Who ate it?" 

"General Grant's stafif." 

"Who paid for it?" 

"The Twenty-second Illinois." (Groans.) 

Months afterward it was discovered that the body-guard 
were the real culprits, and the order was revoked. 

A KIND HEART 

During the march against Vicksburg, the General's party 
passed a rude cabin, when a woman came out swinging her 
tattered bonnet. 

"Go back and see what she wants," said the General. 

"She and her husband," reported the returning aide, "came 
here from Cairo, just before the war. He was impressed into 
the rebel service, but his health breaking down, he has been 
confined to the house for more than a year, and is very poor. 
They are Union people, and she only wanted to welcome our 
army, and get a look at you." 

After cross-questioning her a little Grant rode on for five 
minutes, when he suddenly directed : 

"Captain, leave a guard at that house to protect those 
poor people." 

The order was obeyed. Going a little farther in silence, he 
again said, abruptly, as if a fresh thought had struck him : 

"Send back a surgeon to that sick man, with instructions 
to report his condition to me." 

This, also, was done. The cavalcade went on a few minutes 
longer, when the General gave a third order : • 



214 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"Have the commissary leave a few rations, that the woman 
and her husband need not suffer." 

The family was protected and fed. In due time the invahd 
was cured, and Grant furnished them with free transportation 
to the North. 

NO USE FOR SPECULATORS 

One day a stranger presented himself with a recommenda- 
tion, signed by several members of Congress, and other North- 
ern politicians. Glancing at it, the General — who was wont 
to declare that he had not yet found one honest man 
following the army as a trader — asked impatiently : 

"This is for a permit to buy cotton, is it not?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, you can take it, and leave these headquarters at 
once. If I find you here again. Til have you arrested. Men 
of your class are doing more to corrupt this army than all 
other kinds of rascality put together." 

The speculator ingloriously decamped. 

A CLOSE CALL 
The following incident happened at Chattanooga : 
From the river to the foot of Missionary Ridge, two miles 
and a half, are level farms and swamps. Thomas' picket lines 
were so near Bragg's, that the opposing soldiers talked famil- 
iarly, and at one point were only separated by the narrow 
bed of Chattanooga Creek. One morning, as Grant sat upon 
his horse on the bank, a party of rebels in blue came down on 
the other side to draw water. Supposing them to be his own 
men, the General asked: 

"What corps do you belong to ?" 

"Longstreet's." 

"What are you doing in these coats, then?" 

"Oh ! all our corps wear blue. " 



Ulysses S. Grant 215 

The fact had escaped his memory; but having the good 
fortune not to be recognized, he rode away. 

"A VERY OBSTINATE MAN" 

When Grant was in the Wilderness a party of ladies asked 
Mrs, Grant's opinion of her husband's new responsibilities and 
prospects. 

"Mr. Grant has succeeded, thus far," she answered, "wher- 
ever the Government has placed him ; and he will do the best 
he can." 

"Do you think he will capture Richmond?" 

"Yes, before he gets through. Mr. Grant always was a 
very obstinate man." 

"THE GRIP OF A BULLDOG" 

During those anxious days when Frank B. Carpenter, the 
artist, was painting The Signing of the Proclamation at the 
White House, he asked the Chief Magistrate : 

"How does Grant impress you as compared with other 
leading generals?" 

"The great thing about him," answered the President, "is 
cool persistency of purpose. He is not easily excited, and he 
has the grip of a bulldog. When he once gets his teeth in, 
nothing can shake him off." 

"NOT A RETREATING MAN" 

Grant was sending back his wounded to Fredericksburg, 
and opening roads on his front. The smoke of his cigar was 
seen on every part of the field, but the smoker was more taci- 
turn than usual. 

In the rebel lines it was believed that our army was falling 
back. Gordon said to Lee : 

"I think there is no doubt but that Grant is retreating." 

"You are mistaken," replied the Confederate chief, earn- 



2i6 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

cstly, ''quite mistaken. Grant is not retreating : he is not a re- 
treating man." 

JACKSON'S DISAPPOINTMENT 

General Grant tells the following striking story in his 
Memoirs : 

"On the 23d of June, 1862, on the road from La Grange to 
Memphis, was very warm, even for that latitude and season. 
With my staff and small escort I started at an early hour, and 
before noon we arrived within twenty miles of Memphis. At 
this point I saw a very comfortable-looking white-haired gen- 
tleman seated at the front of his house a little distance from 
the road. I let my staff and escort ride ahead while I halted 
and, for an excuse, asked for a glass of water. I was invited 
at once to dismount and come in. I found my host very con- 
genial and communicative, and stayed longer than I had in- 
tended, until the lady of the house announced dinner and asked 
me to join them. The host, however, was not pressing, so that 
I declined the invitation and, mounting my horse, rode on. 

"About a mile west from where I had been stopping a road 
comes up from the southeast, joining that from La Grange 
to Memphis. A mile west of this junction I found my stafif 
and escort halted, and enjoying the shade of forest trees on the 
lawn of a house located several hundred feet back from the 
road, their horses hitched to the fence along the line of the 
road. I, too, stopped and remained there until the cool of the 
afternoon, and then rode into Memphis. 

"The gentleman with whom I had stopped twenty miles 
from Memphis was a Mr. De Loche, a man loyal to the Union. 
He had not pressed me to tarry longer with him because in the 
early part of my visit a neighbor, a Dr. Smith, had called and, 
on being presented to me, backed off the porch as if some- 
thing had hit him. Mr. De Loche knew that the rebel General 
Jackson was in that neighborhood with a detachment of 



Ulysses S. Grant 217 

cavalry. His neighbor was as earnest in the Southern cause 
as was Mr. De Loche in that of the Union. The exact loca- 
tion of Jackson was entirely unknown to Mr. De Loche; but 
he was sure that his neighbor would know it and would give 
information of my presence, and this made my stay unpleas- 
ant to him after the call of Dr. Smith. 

"I have stated that a detachment of troops was engaged 
in guarding workmen who were repairing the railroad east of 
Memphis. On the day I entered Memphis, Jackson captured 
a small herd of beef cattle which had been sent east for the 
troops so engaged. The drovers were not enlisted men and he 
released them. A day or two after, one of these drovers came 
to my headquarters and, relating the circumstances of his cap- 
ture, said Jackson was very much disappointed that he had 
not captured me ; that he was six or seven miles south of the 
Memphis and Charleston Railroad when he learned that I was 
stopping at the house of Mr. De Loche, and had ridden with his 
command to the junction of the road he was on with that from 
La Grange and Memphis, where he learned that I had passed 
three-quarters of an hour before. He thought it would be 
useless to pursue with jaded horses a well-mounted party with 
so much of a start. Had he gone three-quarters of a mile 
farther he would have found me with my party quietly resting 
under the shade of trees and without even arms in our hands 
with which to defend ourselves. 

"General Jackson of course did not communicate his disap- 
pointment at not capturing me to a prisoner, a young drover; 
but from the talk among the soldiers the facts related were 
learned. A day or two later Mr. De Loche called on me in 
IMemphis to apologize for his apparent incivility in not insist- 
ing on my staying for dinner. He said that his wife accused 
him of marked discourtesy, but that, after the call of his neigh- 
bor, he had felt restless until I got away. I never met General 
Jackson before the war or during it, but have met him since 



2i8 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

at his very comfortable summer home at Manitou Springs, 
Colorado. I reminded him of the above incident, and this 
drew from him the response that he was thankful now he had 
not captured me. I certainly was very thankful, too." 

ADOLPHUS W. GREELY 

SNATCHED FROM DEATH 

GENERAL A. W. GREELY, in his book entitled Three 
Years of Arctic Service, gives this glimpse of the desper- 
ate extremity from which they were rescued by the relief ex- 
pedition. He says: 

''By the morning of the 22d we were all exhausted, and it 
was only through the energy and devotion of Frederick or 
Brainard, I do not remember which, that we obtained, about 
noon, some water. That and a few square inches of soaked 
sealskin was all the nutriment which passed our lips for forty- 
two hours prior to our rescue. Council was very feeble, and 
the end of all was approaching. I tried with indifferent success 
to read from my prayer-book and the few scraps w^e had, but 
the high wind and the lack of food made it too exhausting. 

"Near midnight of the 22d I heard the sound of the whistle 
of the Thetis, blown by Captain Schley's orders to recall his 
parties. I could not distrust my ears, and yet I could hardly 
believe that ships would venture along that coast in such a gale. 

"I feebly asked Brainard and Long if they had strength to 
get out, to which they answered, as always, that they would do 
their best. I directed one to return with the news if any ves- 
sel could be seen. Brainard came back in about ten minutes 
from the brow of the hill, some fifty yards distant, reporting 
in a most discouraging tone that nothing was to be seen, and 
said that Long had gone over to set up the distress flag, a short 
distance away, which had blown down. Brainard returned to 
his bag, while a fruitless discussion sprang up as to the noise, 



Horace Greeley 219 

wherein Biederbick suggested that the vessel was in Payer 
Harbor, which I could not believe, as I thought the whistle 
must be from a ship running along the coast. We had re- 
signed ourselves to despair, when suddenly strange voices were 
heard calling me; and, in a frenzy of feeling as vehement as 
our enfeebled condition would permit, we realized that our 
country had not failed us, that the long agony was over, and 
the remnant of the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition saved." 

HORACE GREELEY 

HIS APPRENTICESHIP 

"A /TR. JAMES PARTON, in his Life of Horace Greeley, 
■^^^ thus graphically describes the interviews leading to the 
contract which apprenticed young Greeley to learn the print- 
ing trade in East Poultney, Vermont : 

"It was a fine spring morning in the year 1826, about ten 
o'clock, when Mr. Amos Bliss, the manager, and one of the 
proprietors, of the Northern Spectator 'might have been seen' 
in the garden behind his house planting potatoes. He heard 
the gate open behind him, and, without turning or looking 
round, became dimly conscious of the presence of a boy. But 
the boys of country villages go into whosesoever garden their 
wandering fancy impels them, and supposing this boy to be 
one of his own neighbors, Mr. Bliss continued his work and 
quickly forgot that he was not alone. In a few minutes he 
heard a voice close behind him, a strange voice, high-pitched 
and whining. 

"It said, 'Are you the man that carries on the printing 
office ?' 

"Mr. Bliss then turned, and resting upon his hoe, surveyed 
the person who had thus addressed him. He saw standing be- 
fore him a boy apparently about fifteen years of age, of lights 
tall, and slender form, dressed in the plain farmer's cloth of 



220 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

the time, his garments cut with an utter disregard of elegance 
and fit. His trousers were exceedingly short and voluminous ; 
he wore no stockings ; his shoes were of the kind denominated 
'high-lows,' and much worn down ; his hat was of felt, 'one of 
the old stamp, with so small a brim, that it looked more like a 
two-quart measure inverted than anything else;' and it was 
worn far back on his head ; his hair was white, with a tinge of 
orange at its extremities, and it lay thinly upon a broad fore- 
head and over a head 'rocking on shoulders which seemed too 
slender to support the weight of a member so disproportioned 
to the general outline.' The general effect of the figure and 
its costume was so outre, they presented such a combination 
of the rustic and ludicrous, and the apparition had come upon 
him so suddenly, that the amiable gardener could scarcely keep 
from laughing. 

"He restrained himself and replied, 'Yes, I'm the man.' 

"Whereupon the stranger asked, 'Don't you want a boy to 
learn the trade?' 

" 'Well,' said Mr. Bliss, 'we have been thinking of it. Do 
you want to learn to print?' 

" 'I've had some notion of it,' said the boy in true Yankee 
fashion, as though he had not been dreaming about it, and 
longing for it for years. 

"Mr. Bliss was both astonished and puzzled — astonished that 
such a fellow as the boy looked to be, should have ever thought 
of learning to print, and puzzled how to convey to him an idea 
of the absurdity of the notion. So, with an expression in his 
countenance, such as that of a tender-hearted dry-goods mer- 
chant might be supposed to assume if a hod-carrier should ap- 
ply for a place in the lace department, he said, 'Well, my boy 
— but you know it takes considerable learning to be a printer. 
Have you been to school much ?' 

" 'No.' said the boy, 'I haven't had much chance at school. 
I've read some.' 




MARY A. LIVERMORE 



JANE ADDAMS 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 



FRANCES E. WILLARD 
JULIA WARD HOWE 



Horace; Greeleiy 223; 

" 'What have you read ?' asked Mr. Bliss. 
" 'Well, I've read some history, and some travels, and a little 
of most everything.' 

" 'Where do you live?' 

" 'At Westhaven.' 

"'How did you come over?' 

" 'I came on foot.' 

" 'What is your name ?' 

" 'Horace Greeley.' 

"Now it happened that Mr. Amos Bliss had been for the 
last three years an Inspector of Common Schools, and in ful- 
filling the duties of his office — examining and licensing teach- 
ers — he had acquired an uncommon facility in asking ques- 
tions, and a fondness for that exercise which men generally en- 
tertain for any employment in which they suppose themselves 
to excel. The youth before him was — in the language of med- 
ical students — a 'fresh subject,' and the Inspector proceeded 
to try all his skill upon him, advancing from easy questions to 
hard ones, up to those knotty problems with which he had been 
wont to 'stump' candidates for the office of teacher. The boy 
was a match for him. He answered every question promptly, 
clearly, and modestly. He could not be 'stumped' in the or- 
dinary school studies, and of the books he had read he could 
give a correct and complete analysis. In Mr. Bliss' own 
account of the interview, he says, 'On entering into conversa- 
tion, and a partial examination of the qualifications of my new 
applicant, it required but little time to discover that he possessed 
a mind of no common order, and an acquired intelligence far 
beyond his years. He had had but little opportunity at the 
common school, but he said 'he had read some,' and what he 
had read he well understood and remembered. In addition to 
the ripe intelligence manifested in one so young, and whose 
instruction had been so limited, there was a single-mindedness, 
a truthfulness, and common sense that commanded my regard.'' 



224 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

"After half an hour's conversation with the boy, Mr. Bliss 
intimated that he thought he would do, and told him to go in- 
to the printing office and talk to the foreman. Horace went 
to the printing office, and there his appearance produced an 
effect on the tender minds of the three apprentices who were 
at work therein, which can be much better imagined than de- 
scribed, and which is most vividly remembered by the two 
who survive. To the foreman Horace addressed himself, re- 
gardless certainly, oblivious probably, of the stare and the re- 
marks of the boys. The foreman, at first, was inclined to won- 
der that Mr. Bliss should, for one moment, think it possible 
that a boy got up in that style could perform the most ordinary 
duties of a printer's apprentice. Ten minutes' talk with him, 
however, effected a partial revolution in his mind in the boy's 
favor, and as he was greatly in want of another apprentice, he 
was not inclined to be over particular. He tore off a slip of 
proof-paper, wrote a few words upon it hastily with a pencil, 
and told the boy to take it to Mr. Bliss. That piece of paper 
was his fate. The words were: 'Guess we'd better try him.' 
Away went Horace to the garden, and presented his paper. 
Mr. Bliss, whose curiosity had been excited to a high pitch by 
the extraordinary contrast between the appearance of the boy 
and his real quality, now entered into a long conversation with 
him, questioning him respecting his history, his past employ- 
ment, his parents, their circumstances, his own intentions and 
wishes; and the longer he talked, the more his admiration 
grew. The result was, that he agreed to accept Horace as an 
apprentice, provided his father would agree to the usual terms ; 
and then, with eager steps and a light heart, the happy boy 
took the dusty road that led to his home in Westhaven. 

" 'You're not going to hire that tow-head, Mr. Bliss, are 
you?' asked one of the apprentices at the close of the day. 'I 
am,' was the reply, 'and if you boys are expecting to get any 
fun out of him, you'd better get it quick, or you'll be too late. 



Horace Greeley 225 

There's something in that tow-head as you'll find out before 
you're a week older,' 

"A day or two after, Horace packed up his wardrobe in a 
small cotton handkerchief. Small as it was, it would have held"^ 
more; for its proprietor never had more than two shirts, and 
one change of outer clothing at the same time, till he was of 
age. Father and son walked, side by side, to Poultney, the 
boy carrying his possessions upon a stick over his shoulder. 

"At Poultney an unexpected difficulty arose which for a 
time made Horace tremble in his high-low shoes. The terms 
proposed by Mr. Bliss were that the boy should be bound for 
five years, and receive his board and twenty dollars a year. 
Now, Mr. Gleeley had ideas of his own on the subject of his 
apprenticeship, and he objected to this proposal, and to every 
particular of it. In the first place, he had determined that ncc 
child of his should ever be bound at all. In the second place,, 
he thought five years an unreasonable time ; thirdly, he consid- 
ered that twenty dollars a year and board was a compensation 
ridiculously disportionate to the services which Horace would 
be required to render ; and finally, on each and all of these 
points, he clung to his opinion with the tenacity of a Greeley. 
Mr. Bliss appealed to the established custom of the country; 
five years was the usual period; the compensation offered was 
the regular thing; the binding was a point essential to the 
employer's interest, and at every pause in the conversation, the 
appealing voice of Horace was heard: 'Father, I guess you'd 
better make a bargain with Mr. Bliss ;' or, 'Father, I guess it 
won't make any difference;' or 'Don't you think you'd better 
do it, father?' At one moment the boy was reduced to des- 
pair. Mr. Bliss had given it as his ultimatum that the proposed 
binding was absolutely indispensable; he 'could do business 
no other way.' 'Well, then, Horace,' said the father, 'let us 
go home.' The father turned to go ; but Horace lingered ; he 
could not give it up, and so the father turned again; the ne- 



226 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

gotiation was re-opened, and after a prolonged discussion, a 
compromise was effected. And so the father went home, and 
the son went straight to the printing office and took his first les- 
son in the art of setting type. 

"The terms of the agreement, as stated, by Mr. Greeley in 
his Recollections were: He was to remain in the office until 
he became twenty years of age, be allowed board only for the 
first six months, and thereafter, in addition, $40 per annum 
for his clothing. Such was the humble contract by means of 
which he who became the founder of The New York Tribune 
entered into the business of printing." 

THE PHYSICIAN'S STORY 

The notable respect and influence gained by Horace Greetey 
even during the years of his apprenticeship, notwithstanding 
his singular dress and uncouth manners, are happily told by a 
distinguished New York physician of the time. The physi- 
cian's story is thus reported by Parton : 

"Did I ever tell you," he is wont to begin, "how and where 
I first saw my friend Horace Greeley? Well, thus it happened. 
It was one of the proudest and happiest days of my life. I 
was a country boy then, a farmer's son, and we lived a few 
miles from East Poultney. On the day in question I was sent 
by my father to sell a load of potatoes at the store in East 
Poultney, and bring back various commodities in exchange. 
Now this was the first time, you must know, that I had ever 
been entrusted with so important an errand. I had been to the 
village with my father often enough, but now I was to go alone, 
and I felt as proud and independent as a midshipman the first 
time he goes ashore in command of a boat. Big with the fate 
of twenty bushels of potatoes, off I drove — reached the village 
— sold out my load — drove round to the tavern — put up my 
horses, and went in to dinner. This going to the tavern on my 
own account, all by myself, and paying my own bill, was, I 



Horace Greeley 227 

thought the crowning glory of the whole adventure. There 
were a good many people at dinner, the sheriff of the county 
and an ex-member of Congress among them, and I felt consid- 
erably abashed at first ; but I had scarcely begun to eat, when 
my eyes fell upon an object so singular that I could do little else 
than stare at it all the while it remained in the room. It was 
a tall, pale, white-haired, gawky boy, seated at the further end 
of the table. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and he was eating with 
a rapidity and awkwardness that I never saw equalled before 
nor since. It seemed as if he was eating for a wager, and had 
gone in to win. He neither looked up nor round, nor appeared 
to pay the least attention to the conversation. ]\Iy first thought 
was, 'This is a pretty sort of a tavern to let such a fellow as 
that sit at the same table with all these gentlemen ; he ought to 
come in with the hostler.' I thought it strange, too, that no 
one seemed to notice him, and I supposed he owed his continu- 
ance at the table to that circumstance alone. And so I sat, 
eating little myself, and occupied in watching the wonderful 
performance of this wonderful youth. At length the conversa- 
tion at the table became quite animated, turning upon some 
measure of an early Congress ; and a question arose how cer- 
tain members had voted on its final passage. There was a dif- 
ference of opinion ; and the sheriff, a very finely-dress person- 
age, I thought, to my boundless astonishment referred the 
matter to the unaccountable Boy, saying, 'Ain't that right, 
Greeley?' 'No,' said the Unaccountable, without looking up, 
'you're wrong.' 'There,' said the ex-member, 'I told you so/ 
'And you're wrong, too,' said the still-devouring Mystery. 
Then he laid down his knife and fork, and gave the history 
of the measure, explained the state of parties at the time, 
stated the vote in dispute, named the leading advocates and 
opponents of the bill, and, in short, gave a complete exposition 
of the whole matter. I listened and wondered ; but what sur- 
prised me m.ost was, that the company received his statement 



^28 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

as pure gospel, and as settling the question beyond dispute- 
as a dictionary settles a dispute respecting the spelling of a 
word. A minute after, the boy left the dining-room, and I 
never saw him again, till I met him, years after, in the streets 
of New York, when I claimed acquaintance with him as a 
brother Vermonter, and told him this story, to his great amuse- 
ment." 

POE'S AUTOGRAPH 

Among the celebrated literary men with whom Mr. 
■Greeley became quite intimately acquainted with Edgar A. 
Poe, author of "The Raven," and other poems of rare beauty 
and power, as well as of a number of tales exhibiting remark- 
able acumen and powers of analysis. Poe was no less brilliant 
as a conversationalist than he was a writer, but he was irregu- 
lar in habits and careless in business matters. Long after the 
poet's death, Mr. Greeley received the following letter : 

"Dear Sir: — In your extensive correspondence, you have 
undoubtedly secured several autographs of the late distin- 
^ished American poet, Edgar A. Poe. If so, will you please 
favor me with one, and oblige. 

Yours, respectfully, A. B." 

To which Mr. Greeley replied: 

"Dear Sir: — I happen to have in my possession but one 
autograph of the late distinguished American poet, Edgar A. 
Poe. It consists of an I. O. U., with my name on the back of it. 
It cost me just $50, and you can have it for half price. 

"Yours, Horace Greeley.' 

EXPERIENCES IN A PARIS JAIL 

In 1855, Horace Greeley had a very remarkable experience 
in Paris. He had been one of the directors of a World's Ex- 
hibition in New York, held in 1852 and 1853. Some foreign 



Horace Greeley 229 

exhibitors had him arrested, hoping in that way to get money 
which they claimed from the Exhibition. He give himself 
an interesting account of his experience : 

"I went to Europe the next Spring (1855) without a sus- 
picion that I should there be held accountable for our inability 
to wrest victory from defeat ; yet, about 4 p. m. of the second 
day of June, after I had returned from a day's observation in 
the French 'Palace of Industry,' I was waited on at my little 
cottage by four French strangers, who soon gave me to under- 
stand that they were officers of the law, bearing a writ issued 
by Judge de Belleyme, of the Court of Premier Instance, at the 
suit of one M. Lechesne, a Parisian sculptor, who swore that 
he had contributed to our New York Exhibition a statue (in 
plaster), which had there been broken, or mutilated; for which 
he claimed of me, as a director, "represontant et solidaire," of 
the Exhibition, "douze mille francs," or $2,500 in gold. When 
we had, by the help of my courier, arrived at some approach 
to a mutual understanding, one element of which was my re- 
fusal to pay to M. Lechesne $2,500, or any sum whatever, they 
said that I must enter their carriage and accompany them 
forthwith to the Judge, some three miles away; which, at- 
tended by my courier, I did. We had to call for Lechesne and 
his lawyer by the way, which consumed nearly an hour, — they 
being in no hurry ; and, when we had told the Judge our respec- 
tive stories, I proposed to go to the American Legation and per- 
suade Don Piatt, Esq., Secretary of Legation, to guarantee my 
appearance for trial when wanted. The Judge pronounced this 
sufficient ; so we set forth on another long ride to the Lega- 
tion ; where not only Judge Piatt, but another friend, Maunsel 
B. Field, Esq., offered himself as security for my appearance at 
court ; but now Lechesne and his lawyer refused, on the ground 
of Mr. Piatt's exemption from arrest on civil process, to take 
him as security, or (in fact) to take anything but the cash 
tliey were intent on. High words passed, and a scuffle was im- 



230 Capital Storie:s About Famous Americans 

Tiiinent, when I insisted on being driven at once to prison, — 
my guardians having affected a fear that I would escape them. 
Crossing the Avenue Champs Elysee, densely thronged at that 
hour (6 p. M.), our carriage came into violent colHsion with 
another, and was disabled ; when a very superfluous display of 
vigilance and pistols was made by my keepers, who could not 
"be persuaded that I was intent on sticking to them like a 
brother. At last, a little before 7 p. m., we reached our desti- 
nation, and I was admitted, through several gigantic iron 
doors, with gloomy crypts between them, to the office of the 
prison, where I was told that I must stay till 9 :^o p. m., because 
the Judge had allowed me so long to procure bail. Here my 
guardians left me in safe-keeping, while I ordered a frugal 
dinner, instead of the sumptuous public one at the Trois 
Freres, given by Mr. M. B. Field, to which I had been invited, 
and had fully expected to attend ; and I sent my courier home 
to quiet the apprehension of my family, who as yet knew only 
that some strangers had called for me, and that I had gone 
off with them. 

"Very soon. Judge Mason (John Y.), our Ambassador, 
called, and was admitted to see me, though it was now too late 
by the regulations. I explained the matter to him, assured 
him that I wanted nothing but a good lawyer, and insisted on 
v-iewing the whole matter in a more cheerful light than it wore 
in his eyes. 'But your wife will surely be distressed by it,' he 
urged ; 'she being an utter stranger here, with two young 
children.' 'No,' I replied; 'a trifle might annoy her; but this 
matter looks serious, and it will only calm and strengthen her. 
I have sent our courier to assure her that it is all right, and to 
request her to keep away from this, and go on with her visiting 
and sight-seeing as though nothing had happened.' 'I have 
heard you called a philosopher, and I now see that you deserve 
the distinction,' was the Judge's rejoinder, as, at my request, he 
left me. 



Horace: Greeley 231 

"Half an hour had scarcely passed, giving me barely time 
to eat my dinner, when my wife was ushered in, accompanied 
by Mrs. Piatt and our little son, whose eyes were distended 
with grave wonder at the iron barriers through which he had 
reached me. 'Good woman,' I observed to Mrs. Greeley, 'I 
have been bragging to Judge Mason how quietly you would 
take this mischance; but here you are in jail at nightfall, when 
visitors are not allowed, as though you were addicted to hys- 
terics.' 'But consider,' she urged in mitigation, 'that I first 
heard of your position from Francis (our courier), who 
comes flying home to assure me that there is nothing serious, 
to urge me not to be frightened, when he is trembling all over 
with anxiety and terror. Hardly had he left the room, when 
Mrs. Piatt comes, in equal haste, to beg me to fear nothing, — 
that all is but a trifle, — and she is quite as agitated and panic- 
sticken as Francis. Neither of them seems to understand the 
matter; so I thought I must come to you for an explanation.' 
This I gave ; when they departed ; and I was at last allowed to 
go up to my lodging, which I find thus described in my letter 
thence to the Tribune : 

"By ten o'clock each of us lodgers had retired to our sev- 
eral apartments (each eight feet by five), and an obliging 
functionary came around and locked out all rascally intruders. 
I don't think I ever before slept in a place so perfectly secure. 
At 6 this morning, this extra protection was withdrawn, and 
each of us was thenceforth required to keep watch over his own 
valuables. We uniformly keep good hours here in Clichy, 
which is a virtue that not manv large hotels in Paris can boast 
of. 

"The bedroom appointments are not of a high order, as is 
reasonable, since we are only charged for them four sous 
(cents) per night, — washing extra. The sheets are rather of 
a hickory sort, but mine were given to me clean ; the bed is in- 
different, but I have slept on worse ; the window lacks a curtain 



232 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

or blind, but in its stead there are four strong upright iron bars, 
which are a perfect safeguard against getting up in the night, 
and falHng or pitching out, so as to break your neck, as any one 
who fell thence would certainly do. ( I am in the fifth or high- 
est story.) Perhaps one of my predecessors was a somnam- 
bulist. I have two chairs, two little tables (probably one of 
them extra, through some mistake), and a cupboard which 
may once have been clean. The pint washbowl, half-pint 
pitcher, etc., I have ordered, and am to pay extra for. I am 
a little ashamed to own that my repose has been indifferent; 
but then I never do sleep well in a strange place. 

"As it was Saturday evening when I was taken to jail, I 
could not expect a release before Monday ; in fact, the lawyers 
who were applied to in my behalf had all gone out of town, and 
could not be found till that day. I rose on Sunday morning in 
a less placid frame of mind than I had cherished over night, 
and devoted a good part of the day to concocting an account of 
the matter meant to be satirical, and to 'chaff' mankind in 
general by contrasting the ways of Clichy with those of the 
outside world, to the dispraise of the latter. Here is a speci- 
men: 

"I say nothing of 'Liberty,' save to caution outsiders in 
France to be equally modest; but 'Equality' and 'Fraternity' 
I have found here more thoroughly than elsewhere in Europe. 
Still, we have not realized the social millennium, even in 
Clichy. Some of us were wont to gain our living by the hard- 
est and most meagrely rewarded labor ; others to live idly and 
sumptuously on the earnings of others. Of course, these vices 
of an irrational and decaying social state are not instantly 
eradicated by our abrupt transfer to this mansion. Some of 
us can cook ; while others only know how to eat, and so require 
assistance in the preparation of our food, as none is cooked 
or even provided for us, and our intercourse with the outer 
world is subject to limitations. Those of us who lived gen- 



Horace Greeley 233 

erously aforetime, and are in for gentlemanly sums, are very 
apt to have money; wliile the luckless chaps who were sent 
here for owing- a beggarly hundred francs or so, and have no 
fixed income beyond the single franc per day which each cred- 
itor must pay, or his debtor is turned loose, are very glad to 
earn money by doing us acts of kindness. One of these at- 
tached himself to me immediately on my induction into my 
apartment, and proceeded to make my bed, bring me a pitcher 
of water and wash-bowl, matches, lights, etc., for which I 
expect to pay him, — these articles being reckoned superfluities 
in Clichy. But no such aristocratic distinction as master — no 
such degrading appellation as servant — is tolerated in this 
community: this philanthropic fellow-boarder is known to all 
here as my 'auxiliary.' Where has the stupid world outside 
known how to drape the hard realities of life with fig-leaf so 
graceful as this? 

"So of all titular distinctions. We pretend that we have 
abjured titles of honor in America; and the consequence is 
that every one has a title, — either 'Honorable,' or 'General,' or 
'Colonel,' or 'Reverend,' or at the very least, 'Esquire.' But 
here in Clichy all such empty and absurd prefixes or suffixes 
are absolutely unknown ; even names. Christian or family, are 
discarded as useless, antiquated lumber. Every lodger is 
known by the number of his apartment only, which no one 
thinks of designating a cell. Mine is 139; so, whenever a 
friend calls, he gives two cents to a 'commissionaire,' who 
comes in from the outer regions to the great hall sacred to our 
common use, and begins calling out cent-trente-neuf (phonet- 
ically son-tra-mif) at the top of his voice, and goes on, 
yelling as he climbs, in the hope of finding or calling me short 
of ascending to my fifth-story sanctuary. To nine-tenths of 
my comrades in adversity I am known only as son-tran-nuf. 
My auxilliary is No. 54 : so I, when I need his aid, go singing 
sankon-cat, after the same fashion. Equality being thus rigidly 



234 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

preserved, maiigre some diversities of fortune, the jealousies, 
rivalries, and heartburnings, which keep the mass of mankind 
in a ferment, are here absolutely unknown. I never before 
talked with so many people intimate with each other without 
hearing something said or insinuated to one another's preju- 
dice ; here, there is nothing of the sort. Some folks outside are 
fitted with reputations which they would hardly consider flat- 
tering, — some laws and usages got the blessing they so richly 
deserve, — but among ourselves is naught but harmony and 
good-will. How would the Hotel de Ville, or even the Tuil- 
eries like to compare notes with us on this head ? 

"A Yankee prisoner, who had seen me in New York, recog- 
nized me as I came down stairs on Sunday morning, and blaz- 
oned his inference that I was in jail by some mistake, — so 
I was soon surrounded by sympathizing fellow jail-birds, sev- 
eral of whom were no more justly liable to imprisonment than 
I was. In a little while, M. Vattemare, well known in his day 
as the projector of systematic international exchanges of books 
and documents, having heard of my luck at Mr. Field's dinner 
the evening previous, made his way in, with proffers of service, 
which I turned to account by obtaining, through him, from 
some great library, copies of the Revised Statutes and Sessions 
Laws of New York, which clearly demonstrated my legal irre- 
sponsibility to M. Lechesne for his damaged statue. Soon, 
other friends began to pour in, with offers of money and ser- 
vice ; but I could not afford to be bailed out nor bought out, as 
fifty others would thereby be tempted to repeat M. Lechesne's 
experiment upon me, — so I was compelled to send them away, 
with my grateful acknowledginents. 

"Among my visitors was M. Hector Bossange, the well- 
known publisher, who had been accustomed to call at my 
rooms each Sunday, as he did on this one, and was soon asked 
by my wife, 'Have you seen Mr. Greeley?' 'Seen him!' he 
perplexedly responded, 'I do not understand you; have I not 



Horace Greei^Ey 235 

called to see him?' 'Then you have not heard that he is in 
prison?' 'In prison?' he wildly inquired; 'what can that 
mean?' 'I do not well understand it myself,' she replied; 
'but it has some connection with our New York Crystal Pal- 
ace.' 'O, it is money, — is it?' joyfully rejoined M. Bossange; 
'then we will soon have him out, — I feared it was politics. 
He knew that I was a furious anti-Imperialist, and feared that 
I had really involved myself in some plot that exposed me to 
arrest as an apostle of sedition, — an enemy of 'order.' 

"Our remaining visitors having been bared out when the 
clock struck 4 p. m.^ we two Americans, with two Englishmen^ 
a Frenchman, and an Italian, sent out our order, and had our 
dinner in the cell of one of us, who, being an old settler, had an 
apartment somewhat more roomy and less exalted than mine. 
Each brought to the common 'spread' whatever he had of 
tableware or pocket-cutlery ; and the aggregate, though there 
were still deficiencies, answered the purpose. The dinner cost 
fifty cents per head, of which a part went as toll to some officer 
or turnkey, and there was still a good margin of profit to the 
restaurateur. Still, there was wine for those who would drink 
it ; but stronger liquors are not allowed in Clichy, in spite of the 
assurance, so often heard, that prohibitory legislation is un- 
known in France. A flask of cut-throat-looking brandy had, 
however, been smuggled in for one of our party ; and this was 
handed around and sipped as though it were nectar. Men love 
to circumvent the laws for the gratification of their appetites; 
and yet I judge that not one gill of spirits is drank in Clichy, 
where quarts were poured down while everyone was free to 
order it and drink so long as he could pay. 

"I presume I had more calls than any other prisoner, though 
Sunday is specially devoted to visits ; and, though grateful for 
the kindness and zeal of my release evinced by several of my 
friends, I was thoroughly weary when the lingerers were in- 
vited to take their departure and the doors clanged heavily 



2^6 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

behind them. I could better appreciate the politeness with 
which M. Ouvrard, Napoleon's great army contractor, after he 
had fallen into embarrassments and been lodged in Clichy by 
his inexorable creditors, was accustomed, when visitors called, 
to send to the grating his faithful valet, who, with the politest 
bow and shrug whereof he was master,^would say, *I am sorry, 
sir, — very sorry; but my master, M. Ouvrard, is out.' This 
was not even the 'white lie' often instigated by good society; 
since the visitor could not fail to understand that the great 
bankrupt could be out in none other than that conventional, 
metaphorical sense which implies merely preoccupation, or un- 
willingness to be button-holed and bored. 

"No prisoner in Clichy is objiged to see a visitor unless of 
his own choice; and, as one is frequently called down to the 
grating to have a fresh writ served on him, thereby magnify- 
ing the obstacles to his liberation, the rule that a visitor must 
make a minute of his errand on his card, and send it up, before 
an interview is accorded, is one founded in reason, and very 
generally and properly adhered to. Yet a fellow-prisoner, who 
received notice that he was called for at the gate, went reck- 
lessly down on the day after my incarceration, only to greet a 
tipstaff, and be served with a fresh writ. 'Sir,' said the 
beguiled and indignant boarder at this city hermitage, 'if you 
ever serve me such a trick again, you will go out of here half 
killed.' Some official underling was violently suspected of 
lending himself to this stratagem ; and great was the indigna- 
tion excited thereby throughout our community ; -but the victim 
had only himself to blame, for not standing on his reserved 
rights, and respecting the usages and immunities of our sanc- 
tuary. 

"I was puzzled, but not offended, at a question put to me the 
moment I had fairly entered the prison : 'Have you ever been 
confined here before?' I respectfully, but positively, replied 
in the negative,— that this was my first experience of the kind. 



Horace Greeley 237 

I soon learned, however, that the question was a prescribed 
and necessary one, — that, if I had ever before been imprisoned 
on this allegation of debt, or on any other, and this had been 
lodged against me, I was not liable to a fresh detention thereon, 
but must at once be discharged. The rule is a good one ; and, 
though I was unable then to profit by it, it may serve me an- 
other time. 

"My general conclusion, from all I observed and heard in 
Clichy, imports that imprisonment for debt was never a bar 
to improvidence, nor a curb to prodigality; that, in so far as 
it ever aided or hastened the collection of honest debts, 
it wrenched five dollars from sympathizing relatives and 
friends for every one exacted from the debtors themselves ; and 
that it was, and could not fail to be, fruitful only in oppression 
and extortion, — much oftener enforcing the payment of unjust 
claims than of just ones. Let whoever will sneer at human 
progress and uneasy, meddling philanthropy, I am grateful 
that I have lived in the age which gave the deathblow to 
Slavery and to Imprisonment for Debt. 

"To get into prison is a feat easy of achievement by almost 
any one; it is quite otherwise with getting out. You cannot 
fully realize how rigid stone walls and iron doors are till they 
stand between you and sunshine, impeding locomotion, and 
forbidding any but the most limited change of place. The rest- 
less anxiety of prisoners for release, no matter how light their 
cares, how ample their apartments, how generous their fare, 
can never be appreciated by one who has not had a massive 
key turned upon him, and found himself on the wrong side of 
an impregnable wall. Doubtless, we hear much nonsense 
whereof 'Liberty' is the burden ; but, if you are sceptical as to 
the essential worth of Freedom, just allow yourself to be locked 
up for a while, with no clear prospect of liberation at any 
specified or definite time. Though I was but forty-eight hours 
in Clichy, time dragged heavily on my hands, after the friends 



238 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

who, in generous profusion, visited me on Sunday had been 
barred and locked out, and I was left for a second night to 
my fellow jail-birds and my gloomy reflections. 'I can't get 
out' was the melancholy plaint of Sterne's starling; and I 
had occasion to believe that so many detainers or claims simi- 
lar to Lechesne's would, on Monday, be lodged against me as 
to render doubtful my release for weeks, if not for months. 

"It was late on Monday morning before my active friends 
outside could procure me the help I needed ; but, when they 
did, I had, through M. Vattemare's valued aid, the books I 
required and had my references and citations all ready for 
service. With these in hand my lawyers went before Judge de 
Bellayme to procure my release; but M. Vattemare had been 
there already, as well as M. de Langle, the Judge of a still 
higher court, to testify that the Americans were generally in- 
dignant at my incarceration, and were threatening to leave 
Paris in a body if I were not promptly liberated. Even M. 
James Rothschild, I was told, had made an indignant speech 
about it at a dinner on Saturday evening ; saying to his friends : 
'We are most of us directors in the Exposition now in progress 
here, and of course, liable to be arrested and imprisoned in any 
foreign country we may visit, on a complaint that some one has 
had articles damaged or lost here, if Mr. Greeley may be so 
held in this action.' 

"These representations impelled M. de Bellayme to say, in 
perfect truth, that he had not ordered my imprisonment, — on 
the contrary, he had directed the plaintiff and his lawyer to take 
Air. Don Piatt's guarantee that I should be on hand, when 
wanted, to respond to this action. So when, at the instance of 
my lawyers, M. Lechesne and his attorneys were called to con- 
front them before the Judge on Monday, and were asked by 
him how they came to take me to Clichy under the circum- 
stances, they could only stammer out that they had reflected 
that Mr. Piatt was not subject to imprisonment in like case, — 



HoRAci; Greeley 239 

therefore his guarantee was no security. This, of course, did 
not satisfy the Judge, who ordered my release on the instant ; 
so by 4 p. M. all formalities were concluded, and my lawyers 
appeared with the documents required to turn me into the 
street. Meantime, I had had so many visitors, who sent up 
good-looking cards, and wore honest faces, that I had mani- 
festly risen in the estimation of my jailers, who had begun to 
treat me with ample consideration. 

"The neighboring servants, who were intimate with ours, 
had witnessed my departure with the officers, and knew, of 
course, that this was an arrest, but pretended to our servants 
not to understand it. One after another of them would call on 
our employes to ask, 'Why, where is Mr. Greeley?' 'He has 
gone over to London on a little business,' was the prompt re- 
ply, 'and will be back in a day or two.' This was accepted 
with many a sly wink and gentle shrug ; the inquisitors having 
obviously united in the conclusion that I was a swindler, who 
had robbed some bank or vault, and fled from my own country 
to enjoy the fruits of my depredation. When, however, I came 
quietly home in a cab about the time indicated by our ser- 
vants, they greatly exulted over the hoped-for, rather than ex- 
pected, denouement, while their good-natured friends were cor- 
respondingly disconcerted by the failure of their calculations. 
On our part, we resumed at once our round of visiting and 
sight-seeing, as though nothing had happened ; but my little 
son's flying hair and radiant face, as he rushed to greet me, 
will not soon be forgotten. He had been told that it was all 
right, when he found me in prison and had tried hard to believe 
it ; my return, unattended and unguarded, he knew to be right. 

GREELEY'S IDEA OF HOW HE CAME TO BE DEFEATED FOR 
THE PRESIDENCY 

"Soon after the election, Caleb Lyon, of Lyonsdale, poet and 
politician, met Mr, Greeley on Broadway, and, after the usual 



240 Capital Stories About Famous x\mericans 

salutation, said, 'Well, Mr. Greeley, how do you yourself ac- 
count for the result of the election ?' 

" 'Let us get a lunch,' said Mr. Greeley, 'and I will tell 
you.' 

They went together to a restaurant near by, and, having 
ordered lunch, Mr. Greeley said: 'Well, Governor, I will tell 
}OU how I came to be defeated. The facts are plain. I was an 
abolitionist for years, when it was as much as one's life was 
worth even here in New York, to be an abolitionist; and the 
negroes have all voted against me. Whatever of talents and 
energy I have possessed I have freely contributed all my life 
long to Protection; to the cause of our manufactures. And 
the manufacturers have expended millions to defeat me. I 
even made myself ridiculous in the opinion of many whose 
good wishes I desired by showing fair play and give a fair 
field in The Tribune to 'Woman's Rights;' and the women 
have all gone against me !' " 

MARK HANNA 

MAGNETIC ELOQUENCE 
NE of Hanna's objects in stumping West Virginia in 1902 



o 



was to help his friend. Senator Scott, who was then mak- 
ing his desperate campaign for re-election. 

At noon one day, while Hanna was at dinner, Scott 
rushed into the dining-room in great excitemen|t and ex- 
claimed : "It's all right, it's all right ! Mark has caught on in 
West Virginny. Four prisoners escaped from the penitentiary 
at Moundsville last night by sawing the bars for no other rea- 
son than to hear him talk at Parkersburg last night." 

Investigation showed that Scott had spoken the truth. Four 
desperadoes in the penitentiary who had heard of the Hanna 
mass meeting made up their minds to attend the meeting, and, 
at the risk of their lives, sawed themselves to freedom. They 



JoEiv Chandler Harris 241 

were pursued by Warden Haddox and seven guards, and after 
the meeting the prisoners surrendered themselves. "We are 
satisfied now," said the leader. ''Take us back to jail; all we 
wanted was to hear Hanna talk and see him." 

"This beats anything I ever heard," said Hanna, after 
the story was told him. "Say, Scotty," he added, with a 
twinkle in his eyes, "any prisoners ever break out of jail to 
hear you talk? I have no doubt that most men would plead 
guilty to some heinous crime in order to get themselves locked 
up in jail to escape from your oratorical stunts." 

And Senator Scott frowned. 

JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS 

GOOD FOR THE BLUES 

TN 1876 yellow fever broke out in Savannah, and the author 
-^ and his family went to Atlanta, together with hundreds of 
other fugitives. He registered at the hotel, "J. C. Harris, wife, 
two children, and one bilious nurse ;" and when he came to pay 
his bill the proprietor told him he didn't owe a penny. "Why, 
sir," he said, "we're indebted to you at least three dollars." 
The young newspaper man had found a hotel filled with terri- 
fied fugitives in the lowest spirits, and his inexhaustible good 
humor and droll stories soon set every one in good temper 
again. 

AFRAID OF THE PUBLIC 

Among his intimate friends Uncle Remus is a never-failing 
fountain of good-humored fun and kindliness but among 
strangers he is as shy and unapproachable as a boy. From his 
youth he has had a slight impediment of speech, which begins 
to bother him as soon as he is among strangers. Let some 
hero-worshiper come to seek him out at his Atlanta home and 
he may depart without having had above half a dozen words 



24^ CAPITA!, StoriDS About Famous Americans 

with the author. Indeed, Mr. Harris' sense of humor is so 
keen, and the idea of his own fame so much of a joke, that 
no one has yet been able to honize him. Many times have his 
friends in Atlanta sought to tempt him out to receptions and 
dinners, but all to no avail. It is rare for him to leave his 
home under any circumstances whatever, except to go to the 
Constitution office or the home of his married sons. Not long 
ago the daughter of one of his best friends and neighbors was 
to be married, and Mrs. Harris succeeded in persuading Uncle 
Remus to attend the dinner. She went early and he promised 
to follow. He got all ready, walked down the street to his 
friend's house, and even entered the gate, but there the lights 
and the music caused his heart to fail him, and he turned and 
went home — and thought of a good story, which just illus- 
trated his condition, and Mrs. Harris found him chuckling over 
it when she came to find him. 

Mrs. B. W. Hunt told me an amusing story of one of his 
experiences during a visit to his birthplace at Eatonton some 
years ago. It was the occasion of a local celebration, and the 
author occupied a seat on the platform with the famous Geor- 
gia orator, Henry W. Grady, who had just made a ringing 
speech. Some of those in the audience who knew Uncle Re- 
mus began calling "Harris, Harris." Uncle Remus never made 
a speech in his life, and the dilemma was terrible to him. Sud- 
denly, as the calls of "Harris, Harris," increased, he jumped 
up, pulled his old gray hat down over his eyes, and shouted, 
"I'm coming, I'm coming," and down he went from the plat- 
form into the crowd. 

THE MAN HE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR 

A big-hearted sympathy and friendliness is one of the 
keynotes of Uncle Remus' character. A shabby-looking man 
once called at his door. It was a raw, chilly afternoon, and the 
man looked blue with the cold. He asked for old clothing. 



Bret Harts 243 

Mr. Harris said, heartily, "You're just the man I've been wait- 
ing for these two months. I've got a coat that will just fit 
you." 



N 



BRET HARTE 

HIS FIRST BOOK 

OT long before his death, Bret Harte told in Success this 



story of his first book : 

"When I say that my first book was not my own, and con- 
tained beyond the title page not one word of my own composi- 
tion, I trust that I shall not be accused of trifling with para- 
dox, or tardily unbosoming myself plagiary. But the fact re- 
mains that in priority of publication the first book for which I 
became responsible, and which probably provoked more criti- 
cism than anything I have written since, was a small compila- 
tion of Californian poems indited by other hands. 

"A well-known bookseller of San Francisco one day handed 
me a collection of certain poems, which had already appeared 
in Pacific Coast magazines and newspapers, with the request 
that I should, if possible, secure further additions to them, 
and then make a selection of those I considered the most nota- 
ble and characteristic for a single volume to be issued by him 

"I have reason to believe that the unfortunate man was 
actuated by a laudable desire to publish a pretty Californian 
book, — his first essay in publication, — and, at the same time,, 
to foster Eastern immigration by an exhibit of Californian 
literary product ; but looking back upon his venture, I am in- 
clined to think that the little volume never contained anything 
more poetically pathetic or touchingly imaginative than that 
conception. 

"I winnowed the poems and he exploited a preliminary an- 
nouncement to an eager and waiting press, and we moved un- 
wittingly to our doom. 



244 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

"The book appeared, — a pretty little volume, typographi- 
cally, and externally a credit to pioneer bookmaking. Copies 
were liberally supplied to the press, and authors and publishers 
self-complacently awaited the result. To the latter, this should 
have been satisfactory; the book sold readily from his well- 
known counters, unaccompanied, however, by any critical com- 
ment. There were yet no notices from the press ; the dailies 
were silent ; there was something ominous in this calm. 

"Out of it the bolt fell. A well-known mining weekly, 
which I will poetically veil under the title of the Red Dog Jay 
Haivk, was the first to swoop down upon the tuneful and un- 
suspecting quarry as follows : 'The hog wash and 'purp' stuff 

ladeled out from the slop bucket of Messrs. and Company, 

of 'Frisco, by some lop-eared. Eastern apprentice, and called a 
Compilation of California Verses, might be passed over as 
far as criticism goes. A club in the hands of any able-bodied 
citizen of Red Dog and a steamboat ticket to the bay, cheer- 
fully contributed from this office, would be all-sufficient. But 
when an imported greenhorn dares to call his flapdoodle mix- 
ture 'Californian,' it is an insult to the State that has produced 
the gifted Yellow Hammer, whose lofty flights have from time 
to time dazzled our readers in the columns of the Jay Hawk. 
That this complacent editorial jackass, browsing among the 
dock and the thistles which he has served up in this volume 
should make allusion to California's greatest bard, is rather a 
confession of idiocy than a slur upon the genius of our esteemed 
contributor.' 

"The Dutch Flat Clarion followed with no uncertain sound, 
'We doubt,' said that journal, 'if a more feeble collection of 
drivel could have been made, even if taken exclusively from the 
editor's own verse, which we note he has, by an equal editorial 
incompetency, left out of the volume. When we add that, by a 
felicity of idiotic selection, this person has chosen only one, and 
the least characteristic of the really clever poems of Adoniram 



John Hay 245 

Skaggs, which have so often graced the columns, we have said 
enough.' 

"The Mormon Hill Quart:; Crusher relieved this simple 
directness with more fancy : 'We don't know why Messrs. 

& Co. send us, under the title of Selections of Calif ornian 

Poetry, a quantity of slumgullion which really belongs to the 
sluices of a placer mining camp or the ditches of the rural dis- 
tricts. We have sometimes been compelled to run a lot of tail- 
ings through our stamps, but never of the grade oflfered, 
which, we should say, would average about thirty-three and 
a third cents a ton. We have, however, come across a single 
specimen of pure gold, evidently overlooked by the serene ass 
who has compiled this volume. We copy it with pleasure, as 
it has already shown in the poet's corner of the Crusher.' 

"The Green Springs Arcadian was no less fanciful in im- 
agery : 'Messrs. & Co. send us a gaudy green and yellow 

parrot-colored volume which is supposed to contain the first 
callow peepings and cheepings of Calif ornian songsters. From 
the flavor of the specimens before us, we would say that the 
nest had been disturbed prematurely. There seems to be a good 
deal of the parrot inside as well as outside the covers, and we 
congratulate our own sweet singer, 'Blue Bird,' who has so 
often made these columns melodious, that she has escaped the 
ignomy of being exhibited m Messrs. & Co.'s aviary.' 

"The book sold tremendously on account of this abuse, 
but the public was disappointed." 

JOHN HAY 

DRIED GRASS 

AVERY mild and gentle man stood at the telephone in 
Washington recently. He had a message which must 
be delivered personally to the Secretary of State, and, lacking 
the means to reach the Department in time, he fled to the tele- 



246 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

phone and called up the Secretary's room. He was told, as 
usual, to hold the wire, and presently a voice said : "Hello 1" 

His affair being a personal one, the mild man felt the nec- 
essity of assuring himself as to the person at the other end, 
and asked: ''Who is speaking?" The reply was so brief and 
faint that it left him still in doubt, and he said : "I don't catch 
it." Once more the short sound came without helping mat- 
ters, and he said again : "Speak louder. I don't catch it." 

There was an ominous pause. Then the receiver warped 
and shook to stentorian tones remarking: 

"Hay ! H-a-y ! Dried grass ! Hay ! Secretary H-a-y ! 
Now do you catch it ?" 

He caught it. 

LINCOLN AND HAY 

Brooks Adams recently told a story of how John Hay be- 
•came Lincoln's private secretary, and of their association to- 
gether : 

"Milton Hay, John's uncle, though younger than Abra- 
ham Lincoln, had been a student with him, and in 1858 the 
offices of Lincoln and Logan and Hay adjoined each other. 
Logan and Hay were in full practice, but Lincoln was too 
absorbed in politics to care for clients, and so it happened that 
Lincoln had many idle hours on his hands, which he spent 
in the rooms of Logan and Hay. As the heads of the firm 
were often occupied, Lincoln talked with the student, and 
soon learned to know him and to love him. On his side John 
venerated the future President. When the Republicans nomi- 
nated Lincoln in i860, John threw himself into the campaign 
with all the ardor of his nature, both as a writer and speaker, 
and in 1861 Lincoln took John with him to Washington as his' 
assistant secretary. 

"Perhaps in all American public life nothing is more 
charming than the story of the relations which existed be- 



John Hay 247 

tween these two men, the one in the bloom of youth, the other 
hastening toward his tragic end. Lincoln treated Hay with 
the affection of a father, only with more than a father's free- 
dom. If he waked at night he roused Hay, and they read to- 
gether; in summer they rode in the afternoons, and dined in 
the evenings at the Soldiers' Home. In public matters the 
older man reposed in the younger unlimited confidence. 

"During the war the President frequently did not care to 
trust to letters. Then he would give Hay a verbal message 
and send him to Generals in command ; and, in all his service. 
Hay never forgot, and never committed an indiscretion. More 
noteworthy still, he never failed to obtain credence from those 
to whom he was sent, although he carried no credentials. 
Finally, on Stanton's suggestion, Lincoln appointed Hay an 
assistant adjutant-general, and Hay served in the field. 

Sometimes the President used his secretary on civil mis- 
sions of a very delicate character, and once young Hay be- 
came involved in a misunderstanding which afterwards might 
have cost him dear. 

"Horace Greeley, though a gifted editor, was a poor poli- 
tician, yet he craved political distinction, and never could be 
easy in private life. In the summer of 1864 his mind seems 
to have been shaken by the horror of the war, for he demanded 
peace upon almost any terms. Finally he decided that he could 
negotiate with certain Southern emissaries in Canada, and wor- 
ried Lincoln into appointing him as a species of envoy. Mr. 
Lincoln comprehended Greeley's error, but he concluded that 
to refuse would be more dangerous than to yield, so he con- 
tented himself with sending young Hay with Greeley to 
Niagara, where the interviews were to take place. At Niagara 
the futility of the undertaking became apparent, and die editor 
returned to New York, but he never forget his chagrin, and 
long years elapsed before he forgave Hay for having involun- 
tarily participated in his discomfiture. 



248 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

"Greeley's mission to Niagara occurred in July, 1864, and 
the following- spring Lincoln was assassinated ; but even be- 
fore the murder young Hay had entered upon a new employ- 
ment. As secretary, Hay had seen much of Mr. Seward, had 
won the old man's regard, and had become as intimate with 
him as was compatible with the difference in their ages. Like 
almost every one else with whom Mr. Hay has worked, Mr. 
Seward not only found him useful as an instrument, but 
learned to respect his character. Afterwards, when Mr. Hay 
was Secretary of Legation in Paris, and Mr. Bigelow was 
minister, Mr. Seward wrote in reply to some commendation of 
his late appointment, 'I am glad you are pleased wath Mr. 
Hay. He is a noble as well as a gifted young man, perfectly 
true and manly.' 

"Feeling thus, Mr. Seward was very glad to do young Hay 
a kindness, and accordingly, one day between the end of the 
war and the death of Lincoln, he sent for Hay, and asked him 
if he would not like to see something of the world, adding thai 
a place in the Legation at Paris was vacant. The offer de- 
lighted Hay, and the Secretary of State at once sent the nom- 
ination to the President, to Mr. Lincoln's astonishment. 

HOW HE CAME TO BE A JOURNALIST 

In i<S70 Mr. Hay resigned from service abroad and returned 
home with the intention of practicing law in Illinois. When 
he arrived in New York the first man to meet him was White- 
law Reid. 

Mr. Hay, when in Washington, had met Whitelaw Reid, 
then a war correspondent. In the years that had intervened 
Mr. Reid had risen fast, and in 1870 was managing editor of 
the Tribune. When Mr. Hay landed, the two dined to- 
gether at the Union League Club, and after dinner strolled 
down to the Tribune office. It chanced that night that the for- 
eign editor was away, and Reid, looking over the telegrams, 



Wii^iviAM Randolph Hearst 249 

said to Hay, "Here is an important despatch ; sit down and 
write a leader for to-morrow." Half in joke, Hay complied; 
the article proved good. Reid asked him to stay for a week, 
for a month, to be an editor; and so Mr. Hay entered journal- 
ism, and entered it under Horace Greeley, his old adversary. 

The appointment was remarkable. A young man who had 
been absent for five years,, and had no experience in journal- 
ism, was suddenly given a high place on a paper of the reputa- 
tion of the Tribune without solicitation on his part, and when 
he was actually on his way elsewhere to enter another profes- 
sion. More noteworthy still, Mr. Hay justified the selection. 
No one acquainted with Mr. Greeley's career can doubt that he 
understood his business. In this case he entertained a strong 
prejudice against his subordinate; yet Mr. Hay very soon con- 
quered this prejudice by the quality of his work, and he and 
Mr. Greeley continued warm friends to the day of the latter's 
death. Were further proof needed of Mr. Hay's capacity in 
journalism, it is furnished by the fact that long afterward he 
was appointed editor-in-chief of the Tribune, during the ab- 
sence of Mr. Reid in Europe. 

WILLIAM RANDOLPH HEARST 

HOW HE CAME TO BE AN EDITOR 

IN 1883, William R. Hearst, then a Harvard student, re- 
turned to San Francisco on a vacation. He found Charles 
Dexter Cleveland in charge of the Examiner. Doctor Cleve- 
land, in describing his meeting with the young man, says : 

"I took him through the Examiner building, carefully in- 
specting every department. When we returned to the office 
of the editor-in-chief, I said: 'William, I shall not remain 
with this paper much longer. When I leave, you take my 
place. Let all your studies in the future have reference to your 
preparation for the position of a conductor of a great news- 



250 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

paper. Study history, literature, politics, statesmanship, 
democracy, and at the same time ground yourself well in the 
fundamental principles of all the sciences. It seems now that 
you will not be a pauper, and about the most insignificant place 
a man can occupy is to be a tag on a money-bag. Take charge 
of this paper. Put your whole strength into it. Make it the 
greatest newspaper in the world. Stay with the people. Study 
their interest, know wherein it consists, and never swerve 
from it. 

" 'Give all the news without prejudice, and see that your 
paper is a daily panorama of the events of the world. As the 
conductor of a great newspaper your usefulness, importance, 
and eminence in the affections of the people will be bounded 
only by your energy, patriotism, enterprise, fidelity, knowledge, 
and ability.' 

"Modesty, unostentatious, quiet, shy like his father, during 
this whole interview of several hours, I remember only his say- 
ing, at the close of our conversation, in a subdued, thoughtful 
tone : 'Well, I like the business ; I think I'll become a news- 
paper man.' " 



W 



PATRICK HENRY 

THE PEOPLE AGAINST THE PARSONS 

ILLIAM WIRT, in his life of Patrick Henry, tells of 
the wonderful speech which won Henry his first rec- 
ognition as an orator. 

On his arrival at the place where court was to be held, he 
found in the courtyard such a concourse as would have ap- 
palled any other man in his situation. They were not the peo- 
ple of the county merely who were there, but visitors from 
all the counties, to a considerable distance around. The de- 
cision upon the demurrer had produced a violent ferment 
among the people, and equal exultation on the part of the 



Patrick Henry 251 

clergy ; who attended the court in a large body, either to look 
down opposition, or to enjoy the final triumph of his hard- 
fought contest, which they now considered as perfectly secure. 

Among many other clergymen, who attended on this occa- 
sion, came the Reverend Patrick Henry, who was the plaintiff 
in another case of the same nature, then depending in court. 
When Mr. Henry saw his uncle approach, he walked up to his 
carriage, accompanied by Colonel Meredith, and expressed his 
regret at seeing him there. "Why so?" inquired the uncle. 
"Because, sir," said Mr. Henry, "you know that I have never 
yet spoken in public, and I fear that I shall be too much over- 
awed by your presence, to be able to do my duty to my clients ; 
besides, sir, I shall be obliged to say some Jiard things of the 
clergy, and I am very unwilling to give pain to your feelings." 
His uncle reproved him for having engaged in the cause ; which 
Mr. Henry excused by saying, that the clergy had not thought 
him worthy of being retained on their side, and he knew of no 
moral principle by which he was bound to refuse a fee from 
their adversaries ; besides, he confessed, that in this contro- 
versy, both his heart and judgment, as well as his professional 
duty, were on the side of the people; he then requested that 
his uncle would do him the favor to leave the ground. 

"Why, Patrick," said the old gentleman, with a good- 
natured smile, "as to your saying hard things of the clergy, I 
advise you to let that alone : take my word for it, you will do 
yourself more harm than you will them ; and as to my leaving 
the ground, I fear, my boy, that my presence could neither do 
you harm nor good in such a cause. However, since you seem 
to think otherwise, and desire it of me so earnestly, you shall 
be gratified." Whereupon, he entered his carriage again, and 
returned home. 

Soon after the opening of the court, the cause was called. 
It stood on a writ of inquiry of damages, no plea having been 
entered by the defendants since the judgment on the demurrer. 



252 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

The array before Mr. Henry's eyes was now most fearful. On 
the bench sat more than twenty clergymen, the most learned 
men in the colony, and the most capable, as well as the severest 
critics, before whom it was possible for him to make his debut. 
The court-house was crowded with an overwhelming multi- 
tude, and surrounded with an immense and anxious throng, 
who, not finding room to enter, were endeavoring to listen 
without, in the deepest attention. 

But there was something still more awfully disconcerting 
than all this ; for in the chair of the presiding magistrate sat 
no other person than his own father. Mr. Lyons opened the 
cause very briefly : in the way of argument he did nothing 
more than explain to the jury, that the decision upon the de- 
murrer had put the act of seventeen hundred and fifty-eight en- 
tirely out of the way, and left the law of seventeen hundred 
and forty-eight as the only standard of their damages ; he then 
concluded with a highly-wrought eulogium on the benevolence 
of the clergy. 

And now came on the first trial of Patrick Henry's strength. 
No one had ever heard him speak, and curiosity was on tiptoe. 
He rose very awkwardly, and faltered much in his exordium. 
The people hung their heads at so unpromising a commence- 
ment; the clergy were observed to exchange sly looks with 
each other; and his father is described as having almost sunk 
with confusion from his seat. 

But these feelings were of short duration, and soon gave 
place to others, of a very different character. For now were 
those wonderful faculties which he possessed, for the first 
time, developed ; and now was first witnessed that mysterious 
and almost supernatural transformation of appearance which 
the fire of his own eloquence never failed to work in him. For 
as his mind rolled along, and began to glow from his own 
action, all the exuviae of the clown seemed to shed themselves 
spontaneously. 



Patrick Henry 253 

His attitude, by degrees, became erect and lofty; the spirit 
of his genius awakened all his features. His countenance 
shone with a nobleness and grandeur which it never before 
exhibited. There was a lightning in his eyes which seemed 
to rive the spectator. His action became graceful, bold, and 
commanding ; and in the tones of his voice, but more especially 
in his emphasis, there was a peculiar charm, a magic of which 
anyone whoever heard him will speak as soon as he is named, 
but of which no one can give any adequate description. They 
can only say that it struck upon the ear and upon the heart in a 
manner which language cannot tell. Add to all these, his won- 
der-working fancy, and the peculiar phraseology in which he 
clothed its images; for he painted to the heart with a force 
that almost petrified it. In the language of those who heard 
him on this occasion, "he made their blood run cold and their 
hair to rise on end." 

It will not be difficult for anyone whoever heard this most 
extraordinary man to believe the whole account of this trans- 
action, which is given by his surviving hearers ; and from their 
account, the court-house of Hanover CoUnty must have ex- 
hibited on this occasion, a scene as picturesque, as has been 
ever witnessed in real life. 

They say that the people, whose countenance had fallen as 
he arose, had heard but a very few sentences before they be- 
gan to look up ; then to look at each other with surprise, as if 
doubting the evidence of their own senses; then, attracted by 
some strong gesture, struck by some majestic attitude, fascin- 
ated by the spell of his eye, the charm of his emphasis, and the 
carried and commanding expression of his countenance, they 
could look away no more. 

In less than twenty minutes, they might be seen in every 
part of the house, on every bench, in every window, stooping 
forward from their stands, in deadlike silence; their features 
fixed in amazement and awe; all their senses listening and 



254 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

riveted upon the speaker, as if to catch the last strain of some 
heavenly visitant. The mockery of the clergy was soon turned 
into alarm; their triumph into confusion and despair; and at 
one burst of his rapid and overwhelming invective, they fled 
from the bench in precepitation and terror. As for the father 
such was his surprise, such his amazement, such his rapture, 
that, forgetting where he was, and the character which he 
was filling, tears of ecstasy streamed down his cheeks, with- 
out the power or inclination to repress them. 

The jury seem to have been so completely bewildered, that 
they lost sight, not only of the act of seventeen hundred and 
forty-eight, but that of seventeen hundred and fifty-eight also ; 
for thoughtless even of the admitted right of the plaintiff, they 
had scarcely left the bar, when they returned with a verdict 
of one penny damages. A motion was made for a new trial ; 
but the Court, too, had now lost the equipoise of their judg- 
ment, and overruled the motion by a unanimous vote. The 
verdict and judgment overruling the motion, were followed by 
redoubled acclamations, from within and without the house. 

The people, who had with difficulty kept their hands off 
their champion, from the moment of closing his harangue, no 
sooner saw the fate of the cause finally sealed, than they seized 
him at the bar, and in spite of his own exertions, and the 
continued cry of "order" from the sheriffs and the Court, 
they bore him out of the court-house, and raising him on their 
shoulders, carried him about the yard, in a kind of electioneer- 
ing triumph. 

THE CRY OF TREASON 

It was in the midst of a magnificent debate in the Mr- 
ginia House of Burgesses, while he was descanting on the 
tyranny of an obnoxious act that Henry exclaimed in a voice 
of thunder, and with a look of dignity — "Caesar had his 
Brutus — Charles the First, his Cromwell — and George the 



Patrick Henry 255 

Third" — ("Treason," cried the speaker — "Treason, treason!" 
echoed from every part of the house. It was one of those try- 
ing moments which is decisive of character. Henry faltered 
not for an instant; but rising to a loftier attitude, and fixing 
on the speaker an eye of the most determined fire, he finished 
his sentence with the firmest emphasis) — "may profit by their 
example. If this be treason, make the most of it." 

THE WITCHERY OF ELOQUENCE 

A striking example of this witchery of his eloquence, even 
on common subjects, was related by a very respectable gentle- 
man, the late Major Joseph Scott, the marshal of this State. 
This gentleman had been summoned, at great inconvenience to 
his private affairs, to attend as a witness a distant court, in 
which Mr, Henry practised. The cause which had carried him 
thither having been disposed of, he was setting out in great 
haste to return, when the Sheriff summoned him to serve on a 
jury. This cause was represented as a complicated and im- 
portant one; so important as to have enlisted in it all the most 
eminent members of the bar. 

He was therefore alarmed at the prospect of a long deten- 
tion, and made an unavailing effort with the Court to get him- 
self discharged from the jury. He was compelled to take his 
seat. When his patience had been nearly exhausted by the 
previous speakers, Mr. Henry rose to conclude the cause, and 
having much matter to answer, the major stated that he con- 
sidered himself a prisoner for the evening, if not for the night. 
But, to his surprise, Mr. Henry appeared to have consumed not 
more than fifteen minutes in the reply; and he would scarcely 
believe his own watch, or those of the other jurymen, when they 
informed him that he had in reality been speaking upward of 
two hours. So powerful was the charm by which he could 
bind the senses of his hearers, and make even the most im- 
patient unconscious of the lapse of time. 



256 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

HENRY'S COMIC POWER 

William Wirt refers to Patrick Henry's remarkable power 
of ridicule, of which he relates a very amusing account : 

"Mr. Henry was not less successful in the comic line, when 
it became necessary to resort to it. You have no doubt heard 
how he defeated John Hook, by raising the cry of heef against 
him. I will give you a similar instance. In the year 1792, 
there were many suits on the south side of James River, for 
inflicting Lynch's law ; thirty-nine lashes, inflicted without trial 
or law, on a mere suspicion of guilt, which could not be regu- 
larly proved. This lawless practice, which, sometimes by the 
order of a magistrate, sometimes without, prevailed extensively 
in the upper counties on James River, took its name from the 
gentleman who set the first exam.ple of it. 

"A verdict of five hundred pounds had been given in Prince 
Edward district court, in a case of this kind. This alarmed the 
defendant in the next case, who employed Mr. Henry to defend 
him. The case was, that a wagoner and the plaintiff were 
traveling to Richmond together, when the wagoner knocked 
down a turkey, and put it into his wagon. Complaint was 
made to the defendant, a justice of the peace; both the parties 
were taken up, and the wagoner agreed to take a whipping 
rather than be sent to jail; but the plaintiff refused; the jus- 
lice, however, gave him also a small flagellation; and for this 
the suit was brought. 

"The plaintiff, by way of taking off the force of the defence, 
insisted that he was wholly innocent of the act committed. 
Mr. Henry on the contrary contended, that he was a party 
present, aiding and assisting. In the course of his remarks, 
he expressed himself thus : — 'But, gentlemen of the jury, the 
plaintiff tells you he had nothing to do with the turkey — I dare 
say, gentlemen, not until it was roasted,' etc. He pronounced 
this word roasted with such rotundity of voice, such a ludi- 
crous whirl of the tongue, and in a manner so indescribably 



Patrick H^nry 257 

comical, that it threw every one into a fit of laughter at the 
plaintiff, who stood np in the place usually allotted to crimi- 
nals ; and the defendant was let off with little or no damages." 

"The case of John Hook, to which my correspondent 
alludes, is worthy of insertion. Hook was a Scotchman, a man 
of wealth, and suspected of being unfriendly to the American 
cause. During the distresses of the American army, conse- 
quent on the joint invasion of Cornwallis and Phillips in sev- 
enteen hundred and eighty-one, a Mr. Venable, an army com- 
missary had taken two of Hook's steers for the use of the 
troops. 

The act had not been strictly legal ; and on the establish- 
ment of peace. Hook, tmder the advice of Mr. Cowan, a gen- 
tleman of some distinction in the law, thought proper to bring 
an action of trespass against Mr. Venable, in the district court 
of New London. Mr. Henry appeared for the defendant, and 
is said to have disported himself in his cause to the infinite 
enjoyment of his hearers, the unfortunate Hook always ex- 
cepted. After Mr. Henry became animated in the cause, says 
a correspondent (Judge Stuart), he appeared to have complete 
control over the passions of his audience ; at one time he ex- 
cited their indignation against Hook; vengeance was visible 
in every countenance ; again when he chose to relax and ridi- 
cule him, the whole audience was in a roar of laughter. 

"He painted the distress of the American army, exposed 
almost naked to the rigor of a winter's sky, and marking the 
frozen ground over which they marched, with the blood of 
their unshod feet — 'where was the man,' he said, 'who had 
an American heart in his bosom, who would not have thrown 
open his fields, his barns, his cellars, the doors of his house^ 
and portals of his breast, to have received with open arms, the 
meanest soldier in that little band of famished patriots ? Where 
is the man? — There he stands — but vv^hether the heart of an 
American beats in his bosom, you, gentlemen, are to judge." 



258 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"He then carried the jury, by the powers of his imagination, 
to the plains around York, the surrender of which had followed 
shortly after the act complained of: he depicted the surren- 
der in the most glowing and noble colors of his eloquence — 
the audience saw before their eyes the humiliation and dejec- 
tion of the British, as they marched out of their trenches — 
they saw the triumph which lighted up every patriot face, and 
heard the shouts of victory, and the cry of Washington and 
liberty as it rung and echoed through the American rank, and 
was reverberated from the hills and shores of the neighboring 
river — 'but hark! what notes of discord are these which dis- 
turb the general joy, and silence the acclamations of victory — 
they are the notes of Johi Hook, hoarsely brawling through 
the American camp, beef, beef, beef!' 

"The whole audience w^ere convulsed : a particular incident 
will give a better idea of the effect, than any general descrip- 
tion. The clerk of the court, unable to command himself, and 
imwilling to commit any breach of decorum in his place, rushed 
out of the court-house, and threw himself on the grass, in 
the most violent paroxysm of laughter, where he was rolling 
when Hook, with very different feelings, came out for relief 
into the yard also. 'J^'^i^'^y Steptoe,' said he to the clerk, 
Svhat the devil ails ye, mon?' Mr. Steptoe was only able to 
say, that he eoiild* not help if. 'Never mind ye,' said Hook, 
'Wait till Billy Cowen gets up. He'll show him the la.' Mr. 
Cowen, however, was so completely overwhelmed by the tor- 
rent which bore upon his client, that when he rose to reply to 
Mr. Henry, he was scarcely able to make an intelligible or 
audible remark. 

"The cause was decided almost by acclamation. The jury 
retired for form's sake, and instantly returned with a verdict 
for the defendant. Nor did the efifect of Mr. Henry's speech 
stop here. The people were so highly excited by the Tory 
audacity of such a suit, that Hook began to hear around him 



Georgk Frisbv Hoar 259 

a cry more terrible than that of hccf ; it was the cry of tar and 
feathers; from the apphcatioii of which it is said that nothing 
saved him but a precipitate flight and the speed of his horse." 

GEORGE FRISBIE HOAR 

WHY HE LIKED SALEM 

^npHE late Senator Hoar, of Massachusetts, once told a 
-*- pretty romance to explain his presence in the city of 
Salem, as well as on this mundane sphere. It was related to 
a group of friends as follows : 

"Friends, I love this region, and I'll tell you a little story 
that you may know why. One day prior to the Revolution 
there rode out to the Salem-Woburn cross-roads two young 
men, Roger Sherman, afterward noted in politics, and his 
brother, whose home in Woburn he had been visiting. The 
brother and his wife in vain had pleaded with Roger to stay 
a few days longer, but he said he guessed he must be going, 
and his brother mounted his horse and rode part way home 
with him. 

"As the young men rested at the cross-roads to say their 
farewells, a girl appeared riding on horseback up the Salem 
road. As she was coming from the direction of Salem, she 
was of course a pretty girl, and as she was a pretty girl, it was 
natural that Roger Sherman should pause a moment. 

"When she arrived at the cross-roads, Roger's brother 
greeted her gladly, and introduced her as his wife's sister. 
She said that she was on her way to spend a few days with 
her sister in Woburn. Then Roger didn't know but that he 
would change his mind and accept his brother's invitation to 
stay a few days longer. So the three rode back together to the 
Woburn home. 

" 'And here I am to-day !' exclaimed the Senator with a 
genial but puzzling smile. 'That beautiful Salem girl was 



o 



260 CAriTAL Stories About Famous Americans 

Rebecca Prescott, my grandmother, and the young man was 
Roger Sherman, signer of the Declaration of Independence 
and my grandfather.' " 

RICHMOND P. HOBSON 

THE SINKING OF THE MERRIMAC 

NE of the most heroic deeds in the history of modern 
warfare was that performed by Lieutenant Hobson in 
sinking the Merrimac in the channel at the mouth of the har- 
bor at Santiago during the Spanish- American war. 

The plan had been well thought out by Lieutenant Hobson. 
and every detail had been foreseen. Sitting in his cabin on the 
flagship just a little while before leaving on his perilous trip, 
Hobson said : 

"I shall go right into the harbor until about four hundred 
yards past the Bstrclla battery, which is behind Morro Castle. 
I do not think they can sink me before I reach somewhere near 
that point. The Merrimac has seven thousand tons buoyancy, 
and I shall keep her full speed ahead. She can make about 
ten knots. 

"When the narrowest part of the channel is reached I shall 
put her helm hard aport, stop the engines, drop the anchors, 
open the sea connections, touch oflf the torpedoes and leave the 
Merrimac a wreck, lying athwart the channel, which is not as 
broad as the Merrimac is long. 

"There are ten 8-inch improvised torpedoes below the water 
line on the Merrimac' s port side. They are placed on her side 
against the bulkheads and vital spots, connected with each 
other by a wire under the ship's keel. Each torpedo contains 
eighty-two pounds of gunpowder. Each torpedo is also con- 
nected with the bridge, and they should do their work in a 
minute, and it will be quicK work even if done in a minute 
and a quarter. 



Richmond P. Hobson 261 

"On deck there will be four men and myself. In the engine 
room there will be two other men. This is the total crew and 
all of us will be in our underclothing, with revolvers and am- 
munition in the watertight packing strapped around our waists. 
Forward there will be a man on deck, and around his waist will 
be a line, the other end of the line being made fast to the bridge, 
where I will stand. 

"By that man's side will be an axe. When I stop the en- 
gines I shall jerk this cord, and he w-ill thus get the signal to 
cut the lashing which will be holding the forward anchor. He 
will then jump overboard and swim to the four-oared dingy 
which we shall tow astern. The dingy is full of life buoys, 
and is unsinkable. In it are rifles. It is to be held by two 
ropes, one made fast at her bow, and one at her stern. The 
first man to reach her will haul in the tow line, and pull the 
dingy out to starboard. The next to leave the ship are the rest 
of the crew. The quartermaster at the wheel will not leave 
until after having put it hard aport, and lashed it so; he will 
then jump overboard. 

"Down below the man at the reversing gear will stop the 
engines, scramble on deck, and get over the side as quickly 
as possible. 

"The man in the engine room will break open the sea con- 
nections with a sledge hammer, and will follow his leader into 
the water. This last step insures the sinking of the Mcrrimac, 
whether the torpedoes work or not. 

"By this time I calculate the six men will be in the dingy, 
and the Merrimac will have swung athwart the channel to the 
full length of her three hundred yards of cable, which will 
have been paid out before the anchors were cut loose. 

"Then all that is left for me is to touch the button. I shall 
stand on the starboard side of the bridge. The explosion will 
throw the Merrimac on her starboard side. Nothing on this 
side of New York City will be able to raise her after that." 



262 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

READY TO MEET DEATH 

"And you expect to come out of this alive ?" aske a compan- 
ion of Mr. Hobson. Mr. Hobson said : 

"I suppose the Estrella battery will fire down on us a bit, 
but the ships will throw their searchlights in the gunners' faces, 
and they won't see much of us. Then, if we are torpedoed, we 
should even then be able to make the desired position in the 
channel. It won't be so easy to hit us, and I think the men 
should be able to swim to the dingy. I may jump before I 
am blown up. But I don't see that it makes much difference 
what I do. I have a fair chance of life either way. If our 
dingy gets shot to pieces we shall then try to swim for the 
beach right under IMorro Castle. We shall keep together at 
all hazards. Then, we may be able to make our way along- 
side and perhaps get back to the ship. We shall fight the sen- 
tries or a squad until the last, and we shall only surrender to 
overwhelming numbers, and our surrender will only take place 
as a last and almost uncontemplated emergency." 

Just before the Merrimac started on her last desperate run, 
she was hailed by one of the newspaper boats. Hobson's 
last words to the correspondents were : "Now pardon me, but 
in case you gentlemen write anything of this expedition, please 
don't say anything individually about its members until you 
know," 

He accented the last word; and the inference was plain — 
until you know we are dead would have filled out the sen- 
tence. 

While the correspondents were on the bridge of the Mer- 
rimac a young officer from the Marhlehead came aboard on 
business. As he left he said: "Shall we send you fellows over 
some breakfast? We would be delighted, and can do it just 
as well as not." 

"Never mind about the breakfast, old man," responded 
Mr. Hobson, "but if vou can send some coffee we would be 



Richmond P. Hobson 263 

very glad. You see we are swept pretty clean here, and none 
of us have had a drop of coffee since day before yesterday." 

It was a trivial incident, but coming from a man doomed to 
almost certain death, it seenied to add the last touch of the 
pathetic to a situation heart-breaking enough in itself. 

HAD AN OVATION ON THEIR RETURN 

Mr. Hobson, after accomplishing the task he had chosen — 
and that it was well done was proven by the fact that the 
Spanish ships were prevented from navigating the narrow 
channel at night, when the chance of escape was better — was 
captured by Admiral Cevera himself who came out in a launch 
for inspection. Hobson's experience is best told by himself 
and his men upon their return to the American fleet early in 
July after they were exchanged. Their return through the 
American line, which had then invested Santiago, was an ova- 
tion, such as few in the world's history of battles have ever 
experienced. 

Immediately after making his report to Admiral Sampson 
upon his release by the Spaniards on July 7, Hobson described 
his exploit thus : 

"We have been thirty-three days in a Spanish prison, and 
the more I think about it, the more marvellous it seems that 
we are alive. 

"It was about three o'clock in the morning when the Merri- 
mac entered the narrow channel and steamed in imder the guns 
of Morro Castle. The stillness of death prevailed. It was so 
dark that we could scarcely see the headland. We had planned 
to drop our starboard anchor at a certain point to the right of 
the channel, reverse our engines and then swing the Merri- 
mac around, sinking her directly across the channel. 

"This plan was adhered to, but circumstances rendered its 
execution impossible. When the Merrimac poked her nose 
into the channel our troubles commenced. The dead silence 



264 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

was broken by the wash of a small boat approaching us from 
the direction of the shore. I made her out to be a picket boat. 

"She ran close up under the stern of the Merrimac and fired 
several shots from what seemed to be 3-pounder guns. The 
Merrimac's rudder was carried away by this lire. That is 
why the collier was not sunk across the channel. 

"We did not discover the loss of the rudder until Murphy 
cast anchor. We then found that the Merrimac would not 
answer to the helm, and were compelled to make the best of 
the situation. The run up the channel was very exciting. The 
picket boat had given the alarm, and in a moment the guns 
of the Viscaya, the Ahnirante Oquendo and of the shore bat- 
teries were turned upon us. 

"Submarine mines and torpedoes also were exploded all 
about us, adding to the excitement. The mines did no damage, 
although we could hear rumbling and could feel the ship trem- 
ble. We were running without lights, and only the dark- 
ness saved us from utter destruction. When the ship was in 
the desired position and we found that the rudder was gone I 
called the men on deck. While they were launching the cata- 
maran I touched ofiF the explosives. 

COLLIER ALMOST RENT ASUNDER 

"At the same moment two torpedoes, fired by the Reina 
Mercedes, struck the Merrimac amidships. I cannot say 
whether our own explosives or the Spanish torpedoes did the 
work, but the Merrimac was lifted out of the water and al- 
most rent asunder. As she settled down we scrambled over- 
board and cut away the catamaran. A great cheer went up 
from the forts and the war ships as the hold of the collier 
foundered, the Spaniards thinking that the Merrimac was an 
American ship. 

"We attempted to get out of the harbor in the catamaran, 
but a strong tide was running, and daylight found us still 



Richmond P. Hobson 265 

struggling in the water. Then for the first time the Spaniards 
saw us, and a boat from the Reina Mercedes picked us up. It 
then was shortly after five o'clock in the morning, and we had 
been in the water more than an hour. We were taken aboard 
the Reina Mercedes and later were sent to Morro Castle. In 
Morro we were confined in cells in the inner side of the fort- 
ress, and were there the first day the fleet bombarded Morro. 
I could only hear the whistling of the shells and the noise they 
made when they struck, but I judged from the conversation of 
the guards that the shells did considerable damage. 

"After this bombardment, Mr. Ramsden, the British Con- 
sul, protested and we were removed to the hospital. There I 
was separated from the other men in our crew, and could see 
them only by special permission. Montague and Kelly fell ill 
two weeks ago, suffering from malaria, and I was permitted to 
visit them twice. Mr. Ramsden was very kind to us, and de- 
manded that Montague and Kelly be removed to better quar- 
ters in the hospital. This was done. 

"As for myself, there is little to say. The Spanish were not 
disposed to do much for the comfort of any of the prisoners 
at first, but, after our army had taken some of their men as 
prisoners, our treatment was better. Food is scarce in the city, 
and I was told that we fared better than the Spanish officers." 

The next morning he recounted his experiences more fully. 

"I did not miss the entrance to the harbor," he said, as 
Ensign Powell in the launch supposed. I headed east until I 
got my bearings, and then made for it, straight in. Then 
came the firing. It was grand, flashing out first from one side 
of the harbor, and then from the other, from those big guns on 
the hills, the Viscaya lying inside the harbor joining in. 

TIDE DRIFTED HER AROUND 

Troops from Santiago had rushed down when the news of 
the Merrimac's coming was telegraphed, and soldiers lined the 



266 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

foot of the cliffs firing wildly across and killing each other 
with the cross fire. The Merrimac's steering gear broke as she 
got to Estrella Point. Only three of the torpedoes on her side 
exploded when I touched the button. A huge sub-marine mine 
caught her full amidships, hurling the water high in the air 
and tearing a great rent in the Merrimac's side. 

"Her stern ran upon Estrella Point. Chiefly owing to the 
work done by the mine she began to sink slowly. At that time 
she was across the channel, but before she settled the tide 
drifted her around. We were all aft lying on the deck. Shells 
and bullets whistled around. Six inch shells from the l^izcaya 
came crashing into the Mcrriniac and passing through, while 
the plunging shots from the fort broke through her decks. 

" 'Not a man must move ;' and it was only owing to the 
.splendid discipline of the men that we all were not killed, and 
the shells rained over us, and minutes became hours of suspense. 
The men's mouths grew parched, but we must lie there till day- 
light I told them. Now and again one or the other of the men 
lying with his face glued to the deck and wondering whether 
the next shell would not come our way would say, 'Hadn't we 
better drop off now, sir?' but I said, 'Wait till daylight.' It 
would have been impossible to get the catamaran anywhere 
but on the shore where the soldiers stood shooting, and I 
hoped that by daylight we might be recognized and saved. The 
grand old Mcrrimac kept sinking. I wanted to go forward and 
see the damage done there, where nearly all the fire was di- 
rected. One man said that if I rose it would draw all the fire 
on the rest, so I lay motionless. 

"It was splendid the way those men behaved. The fire of 
the soldiers, the batteries and the Vice ay a was awful. When 
the water came up on the Merrimac's decks the catamaran 
floated amid the wreckage, but she was still made fast to the 
boom, and we caught hold of the edges and clung on, our 
heads only being above water. 



Burton Holmes 267 

"A Spanish launch came toward the Mcrrimac. We agreed 
to capture her and run. Just as she came close the Spaniards 
saw us, and half a dozen marines jumped up and pointed their 
rifles at our heads sticking out of the water, 

CAPTURED BY CERVERA 

" 'Is there any officer in that boat to receive a surrender of 
prisoners of war?' I shouted. An old man leaned out under 
the awning and waved his hand. It was Admiral Cervera. 
The marines lowered their rifles, and we were helped into the 
launch. 

"Then we were put in cells in Morro Castle. It was a 
grand sight a few days later, to see the bombardment, the 
shells striking and bursting around El Morro. Then we were 
taken into Santiago. I had the court martial room in the 
barracks. My men were kept prisoners in the hospital." 

BURTON HOLMES 

"CANNED WHITE MAN" 

URTON HOLMES, the lecturer, says that the Indians 
of Alaska regard white men and canned goods as so 
closely associated that they are nearly synonymous. Wherever 
the white man is seen canned meats, fruits and vegetables are 
found. 

When Mr. Holmes visited Alaska, recently, he carried with 
him a phonograph, and it was exhibited to an old chief who 
had never seen a talking machine before. When the machine 
was started and the sound of a human voice came from the 
trumpet the Indian was much interested. He listened gravely 
for a time, then approached and peered into the trumpet. 

When the machine finished its cylinder and stopped the 
Indian pointed at it, smiled an expansive smile, and remarked : 

"Huh ! Him canned white man," 



B 



268 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 

HIS LECTURE EXPERIENCES 

WHAT the Autocrat himself thought of his lecturing 
tours we have in his own words : 
"I have played the part of 'Poor Gentlemen' before many- 
audiences ; more, I trust, than I shall ever face again. I did not 
wear a stage costume, nor a wig, nor mustaches or burnt cork ; 
but I was placarded and announced as a public performer, 
and at the proper hour I came forward with the ballet-dancer's 
smile upon my countenance, and made my bow and acted my 
part. I have seen my name struck up in letters so big 
that I was ashamed to show myself in the place by daylight. 
I have gone to a town with a sober literary essay in my pocket, 
and seen myself everywhere announced as the most desperate 
of buffos. I have been through as may hardships as Ulysses in 
the exercise of my histrionic vocation. I have sometimes felt 
as if I were a wandering spirit, and this great, unchanging 
multivertebrate which I faced night after night was one ever- 
listening animal, which writhed along after me wherever I 
fled, and coiled at my feet every evening turning up to me the 
same sleepless eyes which I thought I had closed with my last 
drowsy incantation." 

Of his audiences he writes again as follows : 
"Two lyceum assemblies, of five hundred each, are so near- 
ly alike, that they are absolutely undistinguishable in many 
cases by any definite mark, and there is nothing but the place 
and time by which one can tell the 'remarkably intelligent au- 
dience' of a town in New York or Ohio from one in any New 
England town of similar size. Of course, if any principle of 
selection has come in, as in those special associations of young 
men which are common in cities, it deranges the uniformity 
of the assemblage. But let there be no such interfering circum- 
stances, and one knows pretty well even the look the audience 



Oliver Wendell Holmes 269 

will have, before he goes in. Front seats, a few old folks — 
shiny-headed — slant up best ear toward the speaker — drop 
ofif asleep after a while, when the air begins to get a little 
narcotic with carbonic acid. Bright women's faces, young 
and middle-aged, a little behind these, but toward the front — 
(pick out the best, and lecture mainly to that). Here and there 
a countenance, sharp and scholarlike, and a dozen pretty fe- 
male ones sprinkled about. An indefinite number of pairs of 
young people — happy, but not always very attentive. Boys in 
the background more or less quiet. Dull faces here, there — 
in how many places ! I don't say dull people, but faces without 
a ray of sympathy or a movement of expression. They are 
what kill the lecturer. These negative faces with their vacuous 
eyes and stony lineaments pump and suck the warm soul out of 
him ; — that is the chief reason why lecturers grow so pale be- 
fore the season is over. Out of all these inevitable elements 
the audience is generated — a great compound vertebrate, as 
much like fifty others you have seen as any two mammals of 
the same species are like each other. 

" 'Pretty nigh killed himself,' says the good landlady, 
'goin' about lecturin' two or three winters, talking in cold 
country lyceums — as he used to say — goin' home to cold par- 
lors and bein' treated to cold apples and cold water, and then 
goin' up into a cold bed in a cold chamber, and comin' home 
next mornin' with a cold in his head as bad as the horse dis- 
temper. Then he's look kinder of sorry for havin' said it, and 
tell how kind some of the good women was to him; how one 
spread an eider-down comforter for him, and another fixed up 
somethin' hot for him after the lectur, and another one said, 
'There now, you smoke that cigar of yours after the lectur, 
jest as if you was at home; and if they'd all been like that, he'd 
have gone on lecturin' forever, but, as it was, he had got pooty 
nigh enough of it, and preferred a natteral death to puttin' 
himself out of the world bv such violent means as lecturin'. 



> » 



2/0 Capitai, Storie;s About Famous Ame;ricans 

HOW MARK TWAIN PLAGIAR17F.D HOLMES 

At a breakfast given to Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes on his 
seventieth birthday, Mark Twain delivered the following char- 
acteristic address, interesting from several standpoints : 

" 'I would have travelled,' he began, "a much greater dis- 
tance than I have come to witness the paying of honors to 
Doctor Holmes, for my feeling toward him has always been 
one of peculiar warmth. When one receives a letter from a 
great man for the first time in his life, it is a large event to him, 
as all of you know by your own experience. Well, the first 
great man who ever wrote me a letter was our guest — Oliver 
Wendell Holmes. He was also the first great literary man I 
ever stole anything from, and that is how I came to write to 
him and he to me. When my first book was new, a friend of 
mine said, 'The dedication is very neat.' 'Yes,' I said, 'I 
thought it was.' My friend said, 'I always admired it even 
before I saw it in The Innocents Abroad.' I naturally said, 
'What do you mean? Where did you ever see it before?' 
'Well, I saw it some years ago, as Doctor Holmes' dedication 
to his Songs in Many Keys/ Of course my first impulse was 
to prepare this man's remains for burial, but upon reflection I 
said I would reprieve him for a moment or two and give him a 
chance to prove his assertion if he could. We stepped into a 
book store and he did prove it. I had really stolen that dedica- 
tion almost word for v^ord. I could not imagine how this curi- 
ous thing happened, for I knew one thing for a dead certainty 
— that a certain ainount of pride always goes along with a tea- 
spoonful of brains, and that this pride protects a man from 
deliberately stealing other people's ideas. That is what a tea- 
spoonful of brains will do for a man, and admirers had often 
told me I had nearly a basketful, though they were rather 
reserved as to the size of the basket. However, I thought the 
thing out, and solved the mystery. Two years before I had 
been laid up a couple of weeks in the Sandwich Islands, and 




LVMAN J. GAGE 
RUSSELL A. ALGER 



CHARLES WARREN FAIRBANKS 
JOHN HAY 

JOHN D. LONG 



Oliver Wendeli. Holmes 273 

had read and re-read Dr. Holmes' poems till my mental reser- 
voir was filled with them to the brim. The dedication lay on 
top and handy, so, by the bye, I unconsciously stole it. Per- 
haps I unconsciously stole the rest of the volume too, for 
many people have told me that my book was pretty poetical in 
one way or another. Well, of course I wrote Dr. Holmes and 
told him I hadn't meant to steal, and he wrote back and said 
in the kindest way that it was all right and no harm done ; and 
added that he believed we all unconsciously worked over ideas 
gathered in reading and hearing, imagining they were original 
with ourselves. He stated a truth and did it in such a pleasant 
way, and salved over my sore spot so gently and so healingly 
that I was rather glad I had committed the crime, for the sake 
of the letter. I afterward called on him and told him to make 
perfectly free with any ideas of mine that struck him as being 
good protoplasm for poetry. He could see by that that there 
wasn't anything mean about me; so we got along right from 
the start." 

IT WAS WORTH WHILE 

Once a young writer sent home from California a sample 
of his poetry, and asked Holmes if it was worth while for him 
to keep on writing. It was evident that the doctor was im- 
pressed by something decidedly original in the style of the 
writer, for he wrote back that he should keep on by all means. 

Some time afterward a gentleman called at the home of 
Professor Holmes in Boston and asked him if he remembered 
the incident. "I do, indeed," replied Holmes. "Well," said 
his visitor, who was none other than Bret Harte, "I am the 
man." 

AT THE SUNSET 

In speaking of his eighty-fifth birthday Dr. Holmes al- 
luded to the great men who were born that same year, 1809: 



274 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

" 'Yes,' he said, 'I was particularly fortunate in being born 
the same year with four of the most distinguished men of the 
age, and I really feel flattered that it so happened. Now, in 
England, there were Tennyson, Darwin, and Gladstone — 
Gladstone being, I think, four months younger than myself. 
That is a most remarkable trio, isn't it? Just contemplate 
the greatness of those three men, and then remember that in 
the same year Abraham Lincoln was born in this country. 
Most remarkable!' And when the visitor added, 'You have 
forgotten to mention the fifth, doctor; there was also Oliver 
Wendell Holmes,' Doctor Holmes quickly retorted in his own 
inimitable way: 

" 'Oh ! that does not count ; I 'sneaked in,' as it were !' " 

Doctor Holmes remained at his country home in Beverly 
until late in September, during this last year of his life, and his 
health seemed steadily to improve with the cool and bracing 
autumn weather. 

On his return to the city, however, he had a severe attack 
of the asthmatic trouble from which he had suffered all his 
life. A severe cold, and the "weight of years" aggravated 
what seemed at first but a slight indisposition ; and the poet, 
with his accurate medical knowledge, realized that the end 
was not far distant. 

But as he grew weaker and weaker, his sunshiny spirit 
shone all the brighter. With playful jests he tried to soothe 
the sad hearts of his dear ones, and to make them feel that the 
pain of parting was the only sting of death. He seldom, in- 
deed, made any reference to the dark shadow he felt so near; 
but one morning, three of four days before his death, he said 
to his son : 

" 'Well, Wendell, what is it ? King's Chapel ?' 

" 'Oh, yes, father,' said Judge Holmes. 

" 'Then I am satisfied. That is all I am going to say 
about it.' " 



Sam Houston 275 

SAM HOUSTON 

THE BATTLE WHICH WON TEXAS 

OOME years ago Dr. Cyrus Townsencl Brady, in McClure's 
^^ Magazine, with graphic force, retold the story of Sam 
Houston's great battle which won the independence of Texas : 

"On the i8th of April, 1836, the army reached Buffalo 
Bayou, then unfordable, opposite the ruins of Harrisburg, 
which Santa Anna had destroyed. 

"A celebrated scout named Deaf Smith met them here with 
a bag full of captured despatches, which showed that Santa 
Anna was with the force which had burned Harrisburg, and 
was marching to New Washington. Houston was overjoyed. 
Could he but capture the Mexican Commander-in-Chief he 
would be able to dictate terms of peace. Leaving his baggage 
wagons with a guard, he prepared to cross the bayou, taking 
with him the two cannon and a single ammunition wagon. In 
one leaky boat, and upon a rude timber raft they succeeded in 
ferrying over the army. By nightfall they were on the march 
toward the junction of Buffalo Bayou with the San Jacinto 
River, at a place called Lynch's Ferry where they hoped to 
head off the Mexicans. 

"The tired army marched twelve miles that night. Houston 
allowed his soldiers but a few hours for repose, and before 
dawn they started again and marched seven miles. Upon 
receipt of intelligence that the Mexican army was at hand, they 
left off preparations for breakfast, and marched posthaste to 
the ferry, across San Jacinto Bay, a little below the point 
where the Buffalo joins the river. 

"They reached it before the IMexicans. Six men captured 
a fiat boat loaded with flour and filled with Mexicans. The 
cargo was a welcome contribution to the American commis- 
sariat, for they were almost literally without anything to eat. 

"Thev now turned back up the Buffalo for about three- 



276 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

quarters of a mile, where Houston posted his army in a strong 
position in a thick wood on the edge of the bayou. In front 
of the camp lay a stretch of prairie broken by three clumps of 
trees, known as islands. On the left was the broad arm of 
San Jacinto Bay, the marshy shores of which swept around 
to the south front of them a mile away. The marsh grew 
wider to the southwest. Beyond the tree islands lay another 
clump of trees terminating in the marshland. The country 
to the southwest was also marshy and impassable. The road 
up which they had marched led across a deep ravine with high 
banks called Vince's Creek. The road crossed this creek on a 
wooden bridge about eight miles from the battleground. 
' "Santa Anna, with some 1,200 of his men, was in New 
Washington when his scouts brought word that the American 
forces were at hand. A panic ensued, extending from the gen- 
eral to the soldiery ; but as the day wore on and no attack 
was made the Mexicans recovered their self-control, and 
marched toward Lynch's Ferry to meet the enemy. The Mex- 
ican advance came in touch with the Texans on the afternoon 
of the 20th. Santa Anna's artillery consisted of one nine- 
pounder. There was a fruitless duel between this gun and the 
'Twin Sisters,' and some cavalry skirmishing which was not 
unimportant, in that it gave one Mirabeau B. Lamar an oppor- 
tunity to distinguish himself under fire by the daring rescue 
of a comrade. He was immediately promoted to the rank of 
colonel by Houston and given command of the sixty horse 
which comprised the Texan cavalry. 

"No attempt was made to bring on a general engagement 
that day. Santa Anna desired time to bring up a re-enforce- 
ment of 500 men. Houston is reported to have said that he 
wanted the Mexicans to bring up their whole available force, 
that he might not be compelled to make 'two bites at a cherry.' 
Santa Anna encamped in the woods to the south of the Texans, 
his right resting on the marshes, which extended around his 



Sam Houston 2^"] 

rear. He refused his left slightly, and protected his front by 
a flimsy intrenchment of pack saddles, baggage, etc., in the 
center of which he planted his nine-pounder. His cavalry, sev- 
eral hundred in number, he posted on the left. 

"On the morning of the 21st of April, 500 men under Gen- 
eral Cos marched up the road and joined Santa Anna. 

■'Houston had fully decided upon his course. He called 
Deaf Smith to him, and bade him and a companion named 
Reeves procure two axes and hold themselves for orders. The 
Texans waited thinking the Mexicans, outnumbering them 
over two to one, would attack them. But Santa Anna made 
no movement, and Houston called a council of war. The two 
junior officers were in favor of attacking at once. All of the 
seniors said that it would be madness to attack regular and 
veteran soldiery with undrilled levies, pointing out that there 
were but two hundred bayonets in the Texan army, and that 
they had a good strong defensive position where they were. 

"Houston heard the discussion in silence. He had already 
made up his mind. He called Smith and Reeves to him, and 
secretly ordered them to go and cut down Vince's Bridge. In 
other words, he deliberately destroyed the only practicable 
means of escape for either army. By his action the battle which 
ensued was fought in an inclosure made by Buffalo Bayou on 
the north, San Jacinto Bay on the east, the marshes and waste 
land on the south, and Vince's Creek on the west. 

"At half after three o'clock the men were drawn up on the 
prairie. Colonel Burleson with the first regiment occupied the 
centre. Colonel Sherman was on the left with the second regi- 
ment with the two pieces of artillery posted on the right of 
Colonel Burleson's men. The guns were supported by four 
companies of infantry under Lieutenant-Colonel Millard. The 
newly celebrated Lamar occupied the right line with his 
cavalry. Secretary Rusk had command of the left, while 
Houston led the centre. 



278 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"At four o'clock Houston gave the order to advance. The 
band, which consisted of the soHtary drum of famous memory, 
re-enforced by a single fife, struck up a popular air entitled. 
Will You Come to the Bower? The men with their guns 
a-trail advanced slowly, until they passed the timber islands 
and appeared in view of the surprised Mexicans. Then they 
broke into a run. Houston dashed up and down the lines on 
horseback, waving his old white hat, and directing his men. 

"When they were within two hundred feet of the Mexican 
line Deaf Smith tore madly on the field, and shouted in tones 
that could be heard all along the line: 'You must fight for 
your lives ! Vince's Bridge has been cut down !' Like Cortez, 
Houston had burned his boats behind him. If they did not con- 
quer, they would be like the army of Sennacherib, 'all dead 
corpses.' 

"The Mexican camp was a picture of consternation. Santa 
Anna was asleep ; many of the officers were taking their after- 
noon siesta; the cavalrymen were watering their horses; the 
company cooks were preparing for the evening meal ; the sol- 
diers were playing games. As they discovered tlie Texans, 
they ran to their arms, and delivered a wavering volley, which 
did almost no execution. One bullet struck Houston in the 
ankle making a bad wound, and several others hit his horse, 
but nothing could stop the advance. Before the Mexicans 
could discharge their cannon the Americans struck the place. 

"The 'Twin Sisters' had delivered two well-aimed shots, 
which had demolished a large portion of the flimsy barricade. 
As they reached the rampart the Texans fired point-blank at 
the huddled Mexicans. The volley did fearful execution. Be- 
fore the Spanish could fly, the fierce faces of the Americans 
burst upon them through the smoke, and with clubbed muskets, 
a few bayonets, and many bowie-knives, began their dreadful 
work. One cry ran over the field with ever-increasing volume, 
until it drowned the roar of the gfuns : 



Olivkr O. HowAEiD 279 

" 'Remember the Alamo ! Remember Goliad ! Remember 
La Bahia !' 

"Inspired to fury by the recollection of the cruel massacres 
in which these men had participated, the Americans swept 
everything before them. In fifteen minutes the Mexican army 
was either dead or on the run. Lamar with his handful of 
horse had routed the Mexican cavalry. Horsemen were gal- 
loping headlong down the road toward Vince's Bridge pursued 
by the mounted Americans. The infantry on the Mexican 
right plunged into the marshes, only to be slaughtered as they 
stood enmired. 

"Santa Anna fled toward Vince's Bridge, hotly pursued hy 
Captain Karnes. When the fugitives found the crossing de- 
stroyed they faced about, but the pursuing Texans slaughtered 
them without mercy. A few, however, Santa Anna among 
the number, leaped recklessly into the ravine, and managed 
to escape. 

"The Mexican army had been completely routed. Six hun- 
dred and thirty bodies were left on the field. Two hundred and 
eight lay wounded. There were seven hundred and thirty 
prisoners, a few fugitives and many unknown and unaccounted 
for, who died in the marshes or rivers. The total Mexican 
force had been about eighteen hundred. Of the Texans, there 
were just seven hundred and eighty-three, of whom eight were 
killed and twenty-three wounded !" 

OLIVER O. HOWARD 

THE EMPTY SLEEVE 

TT was at the battle of Fairoaks where General Howard won 
■*- his empty sleeve. He showed extraordinary bravery 
among brave men, and fought with a courage as dauntless as 
it was abiding. Headley says of his conduct at Fairoaks : 

"Howard exposed himself like the commonest soldier, until 



28o Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

at last he was struck by a ball which shattered his arm. In- 
stantly waving the mutilated member aloft as a pennon, he 
cheered on his men to the charge, and was then borne from the 
field. 

"He was first wounded in his sword arm, and his brother, 
near at hand, tying a bandage about it, he held it high in the 
air, and called for the men at his command to charge. 

"Shortly before receiving this wound his horse was badly 
wounded in the shoulder. Waiting a few moments for another 
horse, he caused his men to lie down and creep under the 
shelter of the railway embankment. As soon as a fresh horse 
was brought up he mounted, and rode in front of his troops in 
line, and the men obeying his command with a shout, passed 
up through the woods and across the enemy's outer lines tak- 
ing prisoners. 

"During this action General Howard was wounded for a 
second time in his right arm, this time by a large minie-ball, 
which tore through and broke the bones of the elbow. He 
was helped from the saddle by Lieutenant Mclntyre, of the 
Sixty-fourth New York, aided by one or two private soldiers. 
Soon after he turned his command over to Colonel Barlow, and 
started for the rear. On the way, meeting his friend Colonel 
Brooke, he requested him to send Barlow re-enforcements. 
The loss of blood caused great faintness, and he was moving 
painfully along when a private, who was also wounded in the 
arm, though not so severely, put his well one around General 
Howard, and sustained his failing strength. 

"The surgeons examined the disabled arm, and declared that 
it must come oft; and gaining his ready consent, the sufferer 
was carried to the hospital and put upon the operating-table. 
From the nature of the wounds the suffering was intense 
until the amputation was completed. Then General Howard 
appeared to recover his usual vitality, which continued to 
sustain him. 



Oliver O. Howard 281 

AFRAID OF HIS PRAYERS 

"Into battered and deserted Fredericksburg General How- 
ard accompanied his brigade on the evening of December 12th, 
1862. On the morning of the 13th, as he sat with his officers 
at breakfast, a charming old lady who lived near by accosted 
him with the assurance that though they had taken Fredericks- 
burg, the Sonth would yet win the day. She was firm in her 
faith, and though the General predicted a different ending of 
the war, she smilingly asserted that her foes would have a 
'Stonewall' to encounter, 'Hills' to climb, and a 'Longstreet' 
to wander through before they had finished their task. She 
watched the officers as they listened to the usual morning read- 
ing of the Scriptures by the General, and heard their cheerful 
words as they separated to attend to their respective duties. 
The old lady was struck with their actions, and said to General 
Howard, as he bade her good-morning: 'Now I fear you 
more than ever, for I had understood that all Lincoln's men 
were bad.' She wondered, she said, at his cheerfulness on the 
eve of battle, and was surprised that there were Christians 
among the Yankees. 

UNDER FIRE 

"One instance among the many that could be gathered will 
serve as an illustration of General Howard's conduct in battle. 
At Bald Hill, a place which was reached after passing the 
fields of Dallas and Good Hope, the Fourth Corps found a 
Confederate force in strong possession. The Confederates held 
the hill by infantry, and covered it by batteries not far ofif, 
bringing to bear a fearful artillery cross-fire. The men of 
Howard's leading division had tried to take the hill by storm, 
and had been more than once driven back. Hearing of the 
repulse, General Howard made his preparations with care, and 
when all was ready he took a position in plain sight of his men, 
quietly waiting the advance of his infantry on the crest of a 



282 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

parapet behind which was a battery in full play. It was firing 
to clear the way for an infantry charge. The General did 
not move while the replies of the Confederate batteries caused 
shells to strike the parapet beneath his feet, the trees over his 
head, and filled the air with smoke, roar, and fragments. His 
staff and others begged him to dismount and go under cover. 
'Not this time, gentlemen,' he replied ; 'we must take that 
hill.' Soon his men, who knew that he was watching them, 
cleared the crest and gained the height. It was a hot place, 
full of peril, and the General was anxious lest his men be 
again dislodged. He meant that they should stay and intrench 
the hill, and the instant he saw the skirmishers pass the crest 
he sprang into the saddle and, followed by one or two officers 
and orderlies, galloped to the very top of the height. His sol- 
diers welcomed him with a shout. The position was soon 
strongly intrenched by the willing men, and made secure against 
attack. 

"It is related that two soldiers of Howard's command, who 
were watching him while he sat motionless on his horse as the 
enemy's guns were discharging, remarked upon his attitude: 

" 'He don't seem to hear the thunder,' one said, motioning 
toward their commander, 

" *Oh, he's praying,' was the quick reply ; 'wait till he's 
through, and then he'll go in.' 

AT SHERMAN'S SIDE 

"Just before the review of the troops at the close of the war. 
General Howard was called to Washington by a telegram 
from Mr. Stanton, Secretary of War, and informed by the 
Secretary that it was Mr. Lincoln's wish that he should be- 
come the Freedmen's Commissioner, as contemplated in the 
law of Congress, as soon as his services could be spared from 
the field. And thereupon he put into General Howard's hands 
the act establishing the Freedmen's Bureau. 'Will you ac- 



Oliveir O. Howard 283 

cept ? Think it over, and give me your answer as quickly as you 
can/ said the Secretary. General Howard looked upon the 
request as a legacy from the martyred President, and was in- 
clined to yield a ready assent. At the same time he wanted 
to remain in command of the army with which he had fought 
so many battles until after the grand review. 

"General Sherman advised him to accept the trust, and 
deprecated his refusal for any such reason, saying: 

" 'Howard, you are a Christian ; what do you care for that 
day's display? It will be everything to Logan to have the 
command ; why not let him have it ?' 

" 'If you put it in that ground, General,' replied Howard, 
'I yield at once.' 

"He was disappointed, but quietly conquered his feelings, 
and asked permisison to ride with Sherman's staff. General 
Sherman generously replied : 

" 'Ride by my side, Howard.' 

And so, on the day of the great review, when this great 
commander at the head of the troops saluted President Johnson 
in front of the White House, General Howard was at his side, 
and with his bridle-reins in his mouth and his sword in his left 
hand, saluted the chief of the nation, and was a noticeable 
figure in the assembled multitude. Wherever he went he was 
quickly recognized, and hundreds cheered him as they looked 
at his empty sleeve. 

A HELPING HAND 

General Howard's life has been marked by wide usefulness 
in serving individuals whose needs he has helped and whose 
shortcomings he has tried to remove. Numberless instances 
might be related, one or two are given : 

E. C., a resident of Oregon, a man with a large family, had 
been for many years a notorious gambler and a rough. 
Through the prayers and influence of a few good women and 



284 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

the Lord's help, he had been converted. General distrust of 
the man led people to leave him and his family to shift for 
themselves. General Howard was his constant and never fail- 
ing friend, often lending him money, sometimes as high as two 
or three hundred dollars at a time. 

From being one of the worst of men he became one of the 
best, and has now for years led a most exemplary Christian 
life, and though poor in this world's goods has repaid every 
cent of those early loans. 

Mr. M., for years an infidel, had an infidel book to peruse. 
When his heart was smitten for his infidelity he brought his 
book to General Howard, and begged him to read it. 

General Howard said, *No; it might weaken my faith. 
That author is an able man." 

"But, General," said he, "read it for my sake." 

General Howard read the book, making marginal notes. 
One was, "What is needed here is the Holy Spirit of the living 
God." 

The General then gave him back his book, and one evening 
Mr. M. was among the seekers for divine guidance in the 
Young Men's Christian Association rooms. His voice shook 
with emotion while telling the incident and his eyes filled with 
tears. He became a changed man, and his Christian family 
were made happy by his conversion. 

One who had been a soldier with General Howard went to 
him one night and said: 

"General, I am a gambler ; I hope soon to be a better man, 
but I must wait God's time." 

"Oh, no," was the impetuous reply; "«o«' is the time." 

The two. General Howard and this veteran, walked and 
talked together for two hours. Soon he stood up in a meet- 
mg and made a public confession of religious belief. He be- 
came a Christian, surrendering his gambling implements, and 
has for years led a good life. 



OijvER O. Howard 285 

CONQUERING A SALOON-KEEPER 

A saloon-keeper, who had been at one time imprisoned for 
crime, one day, in the streets of Portland, Oregon, gathered a 
number of roughs to do him harm. As the General was pass- 
ing, he cried out a bitter charge of gross criminality. Gen- 
eral Howard walked through the crowd, faced the man, and 
said, "You know that what you say is not true !" The man's 
countenance instantly changed, and, to the surprise of the by- 
standers, he said, "Yes, General Howard, I know you're a good 
man, but you interfere with my business." Others, standing 
about, ready to mob him, said, "We will not strike him; don't 
strike him ; he has no arms and is a cripple," referring to the 
loss of his right arm. 

THE SPOKANE CHIEF 

A Spokane chief, who had been protected in his rights by 
General Howard, came six hundred miles to put his children 
at school in the General's department. 

On the steamer that took General Howard from that de- 
partment, in 1880, the last interview between this chief and 
the General took place. The former was a magnificent speci- 
men of a man and a Christian. He pleaded with the General 
to remain. "We have given you our hearts," he said; "how 
can you leave us? What shall we do without you?" 

This sad leave-taking reminded General Howard of his 
parting with the wild Cochise in 1872. As the latter stood 
upon his own reserve, which General Howard had secured to 
him, he said, "You must not go; stay with us and all will be 
well." The General asked him, "If you gave orders to one 
of your captains to go and do a work and then return, what 
would you do to him if he disobeyed you?" 

"I would punish him," was the prompt reply. 

"Well, the President has sent me, and I must obey my 
orders ; is it not right ?" 



286 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

"Yes; but ask him to let you come again," was the reply. 

General Howard promised to do so, when the warrior ap- 
proached, put his arms about and held him for some minutes 
against his breast. General Howard has had many wars with 
the Indians, but could the truth be known his influence has 
been nine to one for peace. His soul, instead, rejoices in 
schools, churches, and homes. 



I 



JULIA WARD HOWE 

THE BIRTH OF "THE BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC" 
F Julia Ward Howe had never done anything except to write 



the Battle Hymn of the Republic it would have given her a 
name as imperishable as American history. In a volume en- 
titled Immortal Songs of Camp and Field, written by the editor 
of this volume, the following story of the birth of that won- 
derful hymn is taken : 

The Battle Hymn of the Republic had its birth-throes 
amid the storms of war. In December, 1861, Mrs. Howe, in 
company with her husband, Governo'r and Mrs. John A. 
Andrew, Rev. Dr. James Freeman Clarke, and other friends, 
made a journey to Washington. They arrived in the night. As 
their train sped on through the darkness, they saw in vivid 
contrast the camp fires of the pickets set to guard the line of 
the railroad. The troops lay encamped around the Capital 
City, their lines extending to a considerable distance. At the 
Hotel where the Boston party were entertained, officers and 
Itheir orderlies were conspicuous, and army ambulances were 
"constantly arriving and departing. The gallop of horsemen, 
the tramp of foot soldiers, the noise of drum, fife, and bugle 
were heard continually. The two great powers were holding 
each other in check. The one absorbing thought in Washing- 
ton was the army, and the time of the visitors was generally 
employed in visits to the camps and hospitals. 



Julia Ward Howe 287J 

One day during this visit a party which included Doctor 
and Mrs. Howe and Doctor Clarke attended a review of the 
Union troops at a distance of several miles from the city. The 
maneuvers were interrupted by a sudden attack of the enemy, 
and instead of the spectacle promised them, they saw some re- 
inforcements of cavalry gallop hastily to the aid of a small force 
of Federal troops which had been surprised and surrounded. 
They returned to the city as soon as possible, but their progress 
was much impeded by marching troops who nearly filled the 
highway. As they had to drive very slowly, in order to be- 
guile the time they began to sing army songs, among which the 
John Brozvn song soon came to mind. This caught the ears of 
the soldiers and they joined in the inspiring chorus, and made 
it ring and ring again. Mrs. Howe was greatly impressed by 
the long lines of soldiers and the devotion and enthusiasm 
which they evinced, as they sung while they marched, John 
Brozvn' s Body. James Freeman Clarke, seeing Mrs. Howe's 
deep emotion which was mirrored in her intense face, said : 

"You ought to write some new words to go with that tune." 

"I will," she earnestly replied. 

She went back to Washington, went to bed, and finally 
fell asleep. She awoke in the night to find her now famous 
hymn beginning to form itself in her brain. As she lay still in 
the dark room, line after line and verse after verse shaped 
themselves. When she had thought out the last of these, she 
felt that she dared not go to sleep again lest they should be 
effaced by a morning nap. She sprang out of bed and groped 
about in the dim December twilight to find a bit of paper and 
the stump of a pencil with which she had been writing the eve- 
ning before. Having found these articles, and having long 
been accustomed to jot down stray thoughts with scarcely any 
light in a room made dark for the repose of her infant chil- 
dren, she very soon completed her writing, went back to bed, 
and fell fast asleep. 



288 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

What sublime and splendid words she had written ! There 
is in them the spirit of the old prophets. Nothing could be 
grander than the first line: 

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord." 

In the second verse one sees through her eyes the vivid picture 
she had witnessed in her afternoon's visit to the army : 

"I have seen him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps ; 
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps ; 
I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps ; 
His day is marching on." 

In the third and fourth verses there is a triumphant note of 
daring faith and prophecy that was -wonderfully contagious, 
and millions of men and women took heart again as they read 
or sang and caught its optimistic note : 

"He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat; 
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer him ! be jubilant, my feet ! 
Our God is marching on." 

On returning to Boston, Mrs. Howe carried her hymn to 
James T. Fields, at that time the editor of the Atlantic 
Monthly, and it was first published in that magazine. The 
title. The Battle Hymn of the Republic, was the work of Mr. 
Fields. 

Strange to say, when it first appeared the song aroused no 
special attention. Though it was destined to have such world- 
wide appreciation, it won its first victory in Libby Prison. 
Nearly a year after its publication, a copy of a newspaper con- 
taining it was smuggled into the prison, where many hundreds 




JOSEPH H. CHOATE MARK A. HANNA 

THOMAS BRACKETT REED 
CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW GEORGE W. CHILDS 



Julia Ward Howe 291 

of Northern officers and soldiers were confined, among them 
being the brilHant Chaplain, now Bishop, Charles C. McCabe. 
The Chaplain could sing anything and make music out of it, 
but he seized on this splendid battle hymn with enthusiactic 
delight. It makes the blood in one's veins boil again with 
patriotic fervor to hear him tell how the tears rained down 
strong men's cheeks as they sang in the Southern prison, far 
away from home and friends, those wonderful closing lines : 

"In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me ; 
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free. 
While God is marching on." 

It was Chaplain McCabe who had the privilege and honor 
of calling public attention to the song after his release. He 
came to Washington and in his lecture (that has come to be 
almost as famous as the battle hymn) on The Bright Side of 
Life in Libby Prison, he described the singing of the hymn by 
himself and his companions in that dismal place of confine- 
ment. People now began to ask who had written the hymn, 
and the author's name was easily established by a reference to 
the magazine. 

The hymn complete, as originally written by Mrs. Howe,, 
is as follows:- 

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ; 
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath 

are stored; 
He hath loosed the fatal lightning of his terrible swift sword : 
His truth is marching on. 

"I have seen him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps ; 
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps ;, 



292 Capitaiv Stories About Famous Americans 

I have read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps ; 
His day is marching on. 

'I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel : 
As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall 

deal; 
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, 
Since God is marching on.' 

*'He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat; 
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer him! be jubilant, my feet! 
Our God is marching on. 

"In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me ; 
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free. 
While God is marching on." 

ANDREW JACKSON 

HIS MEETING WITH JOHN QUINCY ADAMS 

"IV /TR. S. C. GOODRICH relates an incident which occurred 
•^^-^ at the White House at a Presidential levee just after 
Jackson had been defeated by John Quincy Adams for the 
Presidency. Mr. Goodrich says :• 

"The two persons in the assembly who, most of all others, 
engrossed the thoughts of the visitors — Mr. Adams, the elect ; 
General Jackson, the defeated. It chanced in the course of the 
evening that these two persons, involved in the throng, ap- 
proached each other from opposite directions, yet without know- 
ing it. Suddenly, as they were almost together, the persons 
around, seeing what was to happen, by a sort of instinct stepped 
aside and left them face to face. Mr. Adams was by himself; 



Andrew Jackson 293: 

General Jackson had a large, handsome lady on his arm. They 
looked at each other for a moment, and then General Jackson 
moved forward, and reaching out his long arm, said : 'How do 
you do, Mr. Adams? I give you my left hand, for the right,, 
as you see, is devoted to the fair: I hope you are very well, 
sir.' All this was gallantly and heartily said and done. 
Mr. Adams took the General's hand, and said, with chilling 
coldness : 'Very well, sir ; I hope General Jackson is well !' 
It was curious to see the western planter, the Indian fighter, 
the stern soldier, who had written his country's glory in the 
blood of the enemy at New Orleans, genial and gracious in 
the midst of a court, while the old courtier and diplomat was 
stiff, rigid, cold as a statue! It was all the more remarkable 
from the fact that, four hours before, the former had been- 
defeated, and the latter was the victor, in a struggle for one of 
the highest objects of human ambition." 

THE DEATH OF JACKSON'S WIFE 

The great sunset of Andrew Jackson's life on the social' 
side came unexpectedly only three months before he entered 
the White House in the death of his dearly loved wife. James 
Parton, has greatest biographer, learned the story of that sad 
incident from good "Old Hanna," the faithful servant in whose 
arms she breathed her last : 

"It was a Wednesday morning, December 17. All was 
going on as usual at the Hermitage. The General was in the 
fields, at some distance from the house, and Mrs. Jackson, 
apparently in tolerable health, was occupied in her household 
duties. Old Hannah asked her to come into the kitchen to 
give her opinion upon some article of food that was in course 
of preparation. She performed the duty required of her, and 
returned to her usual sitting-room, followed by Hannah. Sud- 
denly, she uttered a horrible shriek, placed her hands upon 
her heart, sunk into a chair, struggling for breath, and feir 



294 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

forward into Hannah's arms. There were only servants in 
the house; many of whom ran frantically in, uttering the 
Joud lamentations with which Africans are wont to give vent 
to their feelings. The stricken lady was placed upon her bed, 
and while messengers hurried away for assistance, Hannah 
employed the only remedy she knew to relieve the anguish of 
her mistress, 'I rubbed her side,' said the plain-spoken Han- 
nah, 'till it was black and blue.' 

No relief. She writhed in agony. She fought for breath. 
The General came in alarmed beyond description. The doc- 
tor arrived. Mrs. A. J. Donelson hurried in from her house 
near by. The Hermitage was soon filled with near relatives, 
friends, and servants. With short intervals of partial relief, 
Mrs. Jackson continued to suffer all that a woman could suffer, 
for the space of sixty hours ; during which her husband never 
left her bedside for ten minutes. On Friday evening she was 
much better ; was almost free from pain ; and breathed with 
far less difficulty. The first use, and, indeed, the only use 
she made of her recovered speech was, to protest to the 
General that she was quite well, and to implore him to go to 
another room and sleep, and by no means to allow her indis- 
position to prevent his attending the banquet on the 23d. She 
told him that the day of the banquet would be a very fatiguing 
one, and he must not permit his strength to be reduced by want 
of sleep. 

"Still, the General would not leave her. He distrusted 
this sudden relief. He feared it was the relief of torpor or 
€xhaustion ; and the more, as the remedies prescribed by Dr. 
Hogg, the attending physician, had not produced their designed 
effect. Saturday and Sunday passed, and still she lay free 
from serious pain, but weak and listless ; the General still her 
watchful, constant, almost sleepless attendant. 

"On Monday evening, the evening before the 23d, her dis- 
ease appeared to take a decided turn for the better; and she 



Andrew Jackson 295 

then so earnestly entreated the General to prepare for the 
fatigues of the morrow by having a night of undisturbed 
sleep, that he consented, at last, to go into an adjoining room 
and lie down upon a sofa. The doctor was still in the house, 
Hannah and George were to sit up with their mistress. 

"At 9 o'clock, the General bade her good night, went into 
the next room, and took off his coat, preparatory to lying 
down. He had been gone about five minutes ; Mrs. Jackson 
was then, for the first time, removed from her bed, that it 
might be arranged for the night. While sitting in a chair, sup- 
ported in the arms of Hannah, she uttered a long, loud, inartic- 
ulate cry ; which was immediately followed by a rattling noise 
in the throat. Her head fell forward upon Hannah's shoulder. 
She never spoke or breathed again. 

"There was a wild rush into the room of husband, doctor, 
relatives, friends, and servants. The General assisted to lay 
her upon the bed. 'Bleed her!' he cried. No blood flowed 
from her arm. 'Try the temple, doctor!' Two drops stained 
her cap, but no more followed. 

"It was long before he would believe her dead. He looked 
eagerly into her face, as if still expecting to see signs of re- 
turning life. Her hands and feet grew cold. There could be 
no doubt then, and they prepared a table for laying her out. 
With a choking voice, the General said : 

" \Spread four blankets upon it. If she comes to, she 
will lie so hard upon the table.' 

"He sat all night alone in the room by her side, with his 
face in his hands 'grieving,' said Hannah, and occasionally 
looking into the face, and feeling the heart and pulse of the 
form so dear to him. Major Lewis, who had been immediately 
sent for, arrived just before daylight, and found him still there, 
nearly speechless, and wholly inconsolable. He sat in the room 
nearly all the next day, the picture of despair. 

" 'And this was the way,' concluded Hannah, 'that old 



J296 Capital, Stories About Famous Americans 

.mistus died; and we always say, that when w^e lost her, we 
lost a mistus and a mother, too ; and more a mother than a 
mistus. And we say the same of old master ; for he was more 
a father to us than a master, and many's the time we've wished 
him back again to help us out of our troubles.' " 

JACKSON'S MOURNING FOR HIS LOST LOVE 

Mr. Trist, Jackson's private secretary, relates this tender 
and touching incident : 

"One evening," writes Mr. Trist, "after I parted with him 
for the night, revolving over the directions he had given about 
come letters I was to prepare, one point occurred on which I 
was not perfectly satisfied as to what those directions had been. 
As the letters were to be sent off early next morning, I re- 
turned to his chamber door, and, tapping gently, in order not 
to wake him if he had got to sleep, my tap was answered by 
■'come in.' 

"He was undressed, but not yet in bed, as I had supposed 
he must be by that time. He was sitting at the little table, with 
his wife's miniature — a very large one, then for the first time 
seen by me — before him, propped up against some books ; and 
between him and the picture lay an open book, which bore the 
marks of long use. 

''This book, as I afterward learned, was her prayer-book. 
The miniature he always wore next to his heart, suspended 
round his neck by a strong, black cord. The last thing he did 
every night, before lying down to rest, was to read in that 
book with that picture under his eyes, 

"In Washington, on going one day into the President's 
office, I found that I had broken in upon a tete-a-tete between 
him and Charles, his negro driver, Charles was looking the 
culprit to his best, that is, as well as was permitted by a lurk- 
ing smile, which betrayed his consciousness that nothing very 
terrible was coming. As I entered, the General was saying. 



Andrew Jackson 297 

'Charles, you know zvhy I value that carnage. This is the sec- 
ond time it has happened ; and, if it ever happens again, I will 
send you back to Tennessee.' 

"This lecture and threat Charles had brought upon himself 
by having left his coach-box, as the natural consequence of 
which the horses had run away and broken the carriage. 

"In this scene I was struck with the fact that the General's 
thoughts and feelings dwelt upon the carriage, upon the in- 
jury sustained by it, without turning at all upon the expense 
of the injury to the horses, noble dapple grays, his favorite 
color, of his own rearing, and descendants of his famous horse 
Truxton. I at once inferred that this 'zvhy' had reference to- 
his wife; and upon inquiry of Colonel Earl, my conjecture 
was verified. Because the carriage had been hers^ it was better 
than any new one ; it must never be given up, but always re- 
paired and made as good as new, though the cost might be 
greater than that of a new one. 

^ :}; ^ -J; ^ 5-: :J: 5}; :J; 3*; -^ 

"Another of the numberless particulars of the undying^ 
fidelity — the truly feminine fidelity — of General Jackson's char- 
acter manifesting itself in regard to his wife's memory, was 
the relation established by him toward Colonel Earl, the por- 
trait-painter. As a Nashville artist, Earl had been a protege 
of Mrs. Jackson, one of the many objects on w^hich the kind- 
ness of heart recorded in the epitaph — so different in truthful- 
ness from most epitaphs — had found its indulgence. This 
was enough. By her death, this relative became sanctified for 
the General's heart. Earl became forthwith his protege. From 
that time forward the painter's home was under his roof, at 
Washington, in Tennessee, in the President's house, as at the 
Hermitage, where he died before the General. And this treat- 
ment was amply repaid. His devotion was more untiring even 
than his brush, and its steadiness would have proved itself, at 
any moment the opportunity might have offered, by his cheer- 



298 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

fully laying- down his life in his service. If he had had a thous- 
and lives, they would, I feel sure, have been so laid down, one 
after the other, with the same perseverance that one canvas 
after another was lifted to his easel, there to keep its place till 
it had received 'the General.' " 

A LONELY PRESIDENT 

A New York politician who was a confidential secretary 
in the State Department relates this story of Jackson : 

"One day, when I had had to wait long for an opportunity 
to transact business with him, I chanced to make a remark 
which, I think, had an important effect upon my whole subse- 
quent career. He had got rid of his visitors one after another, 
and at last we two sat alone in the office. He had signed my 
accounts with his great pen, and we were conversing on some 
topic of the day. He seemed tired and melancholy, and I was 
moved to say something kind to him. I saw not before me the 
conquering General, nor the illustrious President, but a tired, 
sad old man, far from his home and friends, farthest of 
all from his wife, and approached chiefly by flatterers, beggars, 
and sycophants. What to say to him I knew not, but I con- 
trived, at last, to blunder out this : 

" 'General, I should think you'd feel lonely here.' 

"Xonely?' he exclaimed. 'How can you think so? Most 
people would think I had plenty of company. What makes you 
think I am lonely?' 

" 'Well, General,' I replied, 'I don't mean lonely exactly. 
But it is not here as it was at the Hermitage, where your 
friends could come in and chat with you in a social way.' 

" 'No,' said the President, 'it is not here as it was at the 
Hermitage. There you are right, my young friend.' 

" 'I'll tell you. General,' I continued, 'exactly what I mean. 
Everyone that comes here has an axe to grind, at least it seems 
so to me, and, in fact, they say so themselves.' 



Andrew Jackson 299 

" 'Yes,' said the General, 'I suppose that's so. Now, let 
me ask you, what ax have you to grind?' 

" 'My ax is ground,' said I. 

" 'It is, is it ?' said the General, laughing. 

" 'Yes, sir, my ax is ground. I have the pleasantest place 
in the department, and I am perfectly satisfied with it' 

" 'You are perfectly satisfied, are you ?' 

" 'Perfectly.' 

" 'You have reached the summit of your ambition, then ?' 

" 'Certainly, General. I ask nothing better. I wish nothing 
better.' 

" 'You have no ax to grind at all?' 

" 'None, General, none whatever.' 

" 'Neither for yourself nor for anybody else?' 

" 'Neither for myself nor for anybody else." 

"Upon this the old man rose, took my hand, and said with 
much tenderness : 

" 'My young friend, come often to see me, and we'll have 
many a good chat together, just as if we were at the Her- 
mitage.' 

"From that time forward I cannot be mistaken in sup- 
posing I was a favorite with General Jackson. He treated 
me with the most marked cordiality, and appeared to give 
me all his confidence. The time came when I put his favor 
to the test, and it stood the test." 

HOW A POLITICIAN GOT THE BEST OF JACKSON 

A public man of the time relates this suggestive story as 
illustrating Jackson's character. He says : 

"The General was a striking illustration of the doctrine 
of compensation. His will, if directly resisted, was not to be 
shaken by mortal power ; but, if artfully managed, he was more 
easily swayed and imposed upon than any man in his day. 
There was a certain member of Congress who had set his 



300 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

heart upon a foreign mission, and had long tried to compass 
his aim, without effect. He obtained a clue, in some way, to 
one of the General's weaknesses, and changed his tactics in 
consequence. He cultivated my acquaintance assiduously, and 
accompanied me sometimes to the White House, where he 
gradually established himself upon a footing of office familiar- 
ity. I saw him one afternoon perform the following scene in 
the General's private office, myself being the only spectator 
thereof. The President was smoking his pipe. 

" 'General Jackson,' began the member, 'I am about to ask 
you a favor — a favor, sir, that will cost you nothing, and the 
Government nothing, but will gratify me exceedingly.' 

" 'It's granted, sir,' said the President. 'What is it ?' 

" 'Well, General, I have an old father at home who has as 
great an esteem for your character as one man can have for 
another. Before I left home, he charged me to get for him, 
if possible, one of General Jackson's pipes, and that is the 
favor I now ask of you.' 

" 'Oh, certainly,' he replied, laughing and ringing the bell. 

"When the servant came, he told him to bring two or thfee 
clean pipes. 

" 'Excuse me. General,' said the member, 'but may I ask 
you for that very pipe you have just been smoking?' 

"'This one?' asked the General. 'By all means, if you 
prefer it.' 

"The President was proceeding to empty it of the ashes, 
when the member once more interrupted him. 

" 'No, General, don't empty out the tobacco. I want that 
pipe just as it is, just as it left your lips.' 

"The member took the pipe to the table, folded it carefully 
and reverently in a piece of paper, thanked the General for the 
precious gift with the utmost warmth, and left the room with 
the air of a man whose highest flight of ambition had just been 
more than gratified. 



Andrew Jackson 301 

"In a little less than three weeks after, that man departed 
on a mission to one of the South American States, and it was 
that pipe that did the business for him. At least I thought 
so; and if there is any meaning in a wink, he thought so 
too. It was also a fact, as he in confidence assured me, that 
his old father did revere General Jackson, and tvoiild be much 
gratified to possess one of his pipes. I once heard a pill- 
vender say to one who had laughed at his extravagant ad- 
vertisements : 

" 'Well, these pills of mine, to my certain knowledge, have 
cured some people.' " 

JACKSON'S LESSON TO A FOREIGN DIPLOMAT 

A State Department official in Jackson's administration, 
relates this characteristic story : 

"In the Northeast Boundary Dispute the King of the Neth- 
erlands offered his arbitration. The offer was accepted, and 
we of the State Department were much occupied in preparing 
the necessary documents for transmission to Europe. One 
day, in the course of these preparations, a gentleman con- 
nected with the commission, a rather pompous individual, a 
son of a foreign consul, born and educated abroad, came into 
my office and requested me to have one set of the documents 
printed on the finest tinted drawing-paper, and bound in the 
most gorgeous and costly manner possible. This set, he said, 
was for the King's own use. The documents, he further re- 
marked, ought to be bound in Paris, for the work could not 
be done in America as it ought to be. Nevertheless, I must 
have them done as well as the state of the arts in the United 
States admitted, regardless of expense. 

"Nettled both by the manner and the matter of this gen- 
tleman's discourse, and not perceiving any necessity for such 
a lavish expenditure of the public money, I told him that, 
the Secretary of State being absent from the city, I did not 



302 Capital Stories About Fai^ious Americans 

feel authorized to comply with his wishes. Nothing of the 
kind had ever been done before in the department, and any 
thing so unusual could only be warranted by the Secretary's 
special order. The documents were numerous, and would 
form several large volumes. 

" 'But, sir,' said he, with much hauteur, 'you forget that 
these volumes are designed, not for ambassadors and secreta- 
ries, but for the King of a country.' 

" 'Well,' said I, 'without the express orders of the Sec- 
retary of State or of the President, I must decline doing any 
thing in the matter.' 

" *I will assume the entire responsibility,' he replied, 'and 
hold you blameless. If the Secretary of State disapproves, I 
will take the consequences.' 

" 'Very well,' said I, 'if you shoulder the responsibility I 
Avill proceed.' 

"After he had taken his departure, however, I looked into 
the law and the precedents, and became satisfied that there 
was neither law nor precedent for the work proposed. I also 
calculated the expense of the printing and binding, and found 
it would amount to several hundred dollars. The more I 
thought over the matter the greater was my repugnance to 
ordering the work, and the result of my cogitations was that 
I went to the White House to consult the President on the 
subject. I found the President alone, and soon told my story. 

"As I proceeded, the General left his seat and began to 
walk up and down the room, quickening his pace as I went 
on. At length he broke into a loud and vehement harangue, 
still pacing the floor: 

" 'Go on, Mr. Clark,' he exclaimed ; 'you are perfectly 
correct, sir. Tell this gentleman for me, that Benjamin 
Franklin, in his woolen stockings was no disgrace to this 
country. This Government will never sanction what these 
gentlemen wish. The same habits brought reflections upon the 



Andrew Jackson 303 

last administration — 'those beautiful portfolios, dhose treaty 
boxes, and other things of that kind. It shall not be done, sir. 
I say again, sir, and I wish those gentlemen to know it, that 
no man ever did such honor to this country abroad as old Ben 
Franklin, who wore his homespun blue woolen stockings, and 
all Paris loved him for it. Go on, sir, as you have begun. 
Have these things done — not meanly — but plain and simple, 
conformable to our Republican principles. This Mr. , I be- 
lieve, is a Frenchman. He has foreign notions. He has got 
his appointment ; but if he had not got it, I do not say he 
would. A King, indeed ! What's a King, that he should re- 
ceive things in this splendid style? We ought to have things 
done in the best, plain, unpretending manner, and no other; 
and so, sir, have them done. Now, sir, you know my views, and 
the Secretary of State's also, for his views are mine in these 
things. Therefore, go on as you deem right, religiously, and 
fear not. Say to the commissioner that I do not approve these 
extravagances. When he arrives in Europe he may have them 
fixed according to his notions at his own expense, not the Gov- 
ernment's. Heaven and earth may come together, but Andrew 
Jackson will never swerve from principle.' 

" 'I am proud, General,' said I, 'to have your approbation 
of my course. There is just one other remark that I would 
like to make, with your permission." 

" 'Proceed, sir,' said the President, with the air of a man 
ordering a charge of cavalry. 

" 'This commissioner,' said I, 'is a man of power and 
reputation. I am, as you are aware, in a position very differ- 
ent from his. It seems to me that, like a cockboat encountering 
a seventy-four, I shall be swamped. He is, besides, a friend of 
the Secretary of State. I never knew an instance of a subordi- 
nate getting on than by deferring to the wishes of his chief." 

"'No exception to that rule?' he asked, with one of his 
knowinsf looks. 



304 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

" 'I have never known one,' I replied. 

" *I think there are exceptions, Mr. Clark. I think there 
are. I believe you will not be swamped on this occasion, Mr. 
Cockboat. Any communication you may receive from the Sec- 
retary of State, during his absence, bring to me.' 

"I took leave, returned to my office, and immediately wrote 
to the commissioner the following letter: 

" 'Sir — The President, in conversation with me this morn- 
ing directed me to inform you that he did not authorize, but ex- 
pressly forbade, that the port-folio books relating to the 
Northeast Boundary for arbitrator, the King of the Nether- 
lands, should be done in any other manner than that of plain, 
republican simplicity ; remarking, at the same time, that no dif- 
ference should exist between those destined for the King and 
any others that emanate from the government. He happily 
illustrated his ideas on this subject, by the expression that, in 
his opinion, Benjamin Franklin, in his blue stockings, was no 
disgrace to his country. During the conversation I had with 
him, he directed me to say to you, that he wished every thing 
of the kind done in the best plain and substantial manner, and 
not according to foreign ideas of such things, and expressly 
directed me in this case to have them done in that manner. 
Understanding from you that these documents must be com- 
pleted with dispatch, they will be done in the manner described 
in the shortest time possible. I am, etc., 

"X. Clark.' '^ 

"I luckily kept a copy of this epistle. I say luckily, for a 
day or two after, upon going to the President upon other 
business, I found him cool and reserved toward me. 

" 'You have written an abusive letter to the Commissioner,' 
said he. 

" 'No, General, I have not. I wrote him just such a letter as 
you directed, and here is a copy of it.' 



i 



Andrew Jackson 305 

"He read the letter, and said it expressed his ideas exactly, 
and he was perfectly satisfied with it. His good humor was 
restored." 

A POLITICIAN'S EXPERIENCE 

The gentleman who related the incident recorded above 
tells an interesting story of his own experience as an office- 
holder. He says : 

"The time came at length, when I, too, was a suitor for 
Presidential favor, and I venture to say that no one has ever 
obtained a lucrative office more easily and unexpectedly than I 
did. By accident I heard of the vacancy one mail before any- 
one else in Washington. It was an office that secured to a pru- 
dent incumbent not income merely, but competence; one of 
those city places the fees of which had been fixed when the city 
was a small town, the mere growth of the city had rendered 
this office one of the best things in the gift of the Federal 
Government. In twenty-four hours there would have been 
fifty applicants for it — in a week, two hundred. 

"I went straightway to the President's office, and addressed 
him in words like these : 

" 'General, the no-matter-what-ship of New York is va- 
cant. You will be notified of the fact to-morrow morning. It 
was long ago understood between you and myself, that the 
straightforward way of doing business was the best, and I 
will proceed in that way upon the present occasion. I will 
ask you two questions. Do you consider me competent to 
discharge the duties of that office?' 

" 'I do,' said the President. 

" 'Will you give me the appointment?' 

" 'I will,' was his instantaneous reply. 

"And he did. My name was sent to the Senate immediately. 
The nomination was confirmed, and I was soon at my new 
post, to the great astonishment of several worthy gentlem.en 



3o6 Capitai, Stories Abou't Famous Americans 

who were striving, with might and main, by night and day, 
to secure the place for themselves. At the expiration of my 
term of four years, I went to Washington and asked a reap- 
pointment in precisely the same manner, and received for an- 
swer the same emphatic and instantaneous 'I will,' as before. 
On this occasion, the private secretary being busy, he re- 
quested me to write my own nomination. I did so, but as it 
was deemed best that the document should go to the Senate 
in the usual hand-writing, Major Donelson copied it, and sent 
it to the capitol. 

''The General invited me to dinner. I had sent him some 
months before, a barrel of hickory nuts, and after dinner he 
said to a servant : 

" 'Bring some of Mr. Clark's hickory nuts.' 

" 'I am flattered. General,' said I, 'that you should re- 
member it.' 

" 'Oh,' said he, 'I never forget my friends.' 

"At the table, I observed, every guest was provided with 
two forks, one of steel, the other of silver. The President 
adhered to the primitive metal. 

"Mr. Forsyth was then Secretary of State. I called upon 
him, and informed him of my reappointment, and that my 
name was then before the Senate. 

" 'Have you called upon your Senators ?' he asked. 

" 'I have not,' was my innocent reply ; 'I did not suppose 
it necessary.' 

" 'Oh, no,' said he, 'it is not necessary. If General Jack- 
son says so, that's enough. There's no Secretary of State, no 
Senate, no any body — if General Jackson has made up his 
mind.' 

"Mr. Van Buren, who was sitting near, laughed. Mr. For- 
syth laughed, I laughed, we performed a laughing trio ; in the 
midst of which I took my leave, well assured in my own mind,, 
that I had the best of the joke. 



Andrew Jackson 307 

"Four years later, however, Mr, Van Vuren being Presi- 
dent, I took a slightly different view of the matter. As the ex- 
piration of my second term drew near, I employed all the 
usual arts, and some of the unusual ones, to secure a reappoint- 
ment, and entertained confident hopes of success. Indeed, I 
felt assured of it, and had reason to do so, though from the 
President himself I had heard nothing. My second term ex- 
pired, and still I had learnt nothing of the fate of my applica- 
tion. The next morning, at 10 o'clock precisely, a gentleman 
entered my office, and, presenting his commission, informed 
me, with the utmost politeness, that I was no longer in 
the service of the government, and that I saw before me that 
dread being — terror of all office-holders — a successor! 

"I have seen many heads taken off in my time, but uever 
one quite so neatly as my own." 

PULLING A PRESIDENTS NOSE 

During the spring and summer of 1833 Jackson spent mucH 
time travelling and in drinking deep draughts of the bewilder- 
ing cup of adulation. 

"An event occurred on the first day's journey that was not 
of an adulatory nature. On the sixth of May, the President, 
accompanied by members of his cabinet and by Major Donel- 
son, left the capital, in a steamboat, for Fredericksburg, Vir- 
ginia, where he was to lay the corner-stone of that monument 
to the mother of Washington which is still unfinished. At 
Alexandria, where the steamer touched, there came on board 
a Mr. Randolph, late a Lieutenant in the navy, who had been 
recently dismissed the service. Randolph went to the cabin, 
and found the President sitting at a table reading a newspaper. 
He approached the table, as if to salute the President. 

" 'Excuse my rising, sir,' said the General, who was not 
acquainted with Randolph. 'I have a pain in my side which 
makes it distressing: for me to rise.' 



3o8 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

"Randolph made no reply to this courteous apology, but 
appeared to be trying to take oft' his glove. 

" 'Never mind your glove, sir/ said the General, holding 
out his hand. 

"At this moment, Randolph thrust his hand violently into 
the President's face, intending, as it appeared, to pull his nose. 
The Captain of the boat, who was standing by, instantly seized 
Randolph, and drew him back. A violent scuffle ensued, dur- 
ing which the table was broken. The friends of Randolph 
clutched him, and hurried him ashore before many of the pass- 
engers knew what had occurred, and thus he effected his es- 
cape. The passengers soon crowded into the cabin to learn if 
the General was hurt. 

" 'Had I known,' said he 'that Randolph stood before me, 
I should have been prepared for him, and I could have de- 
fended myself. No villain has ever escaped me before ; and he 
would not, had it not been for my confined situation.' 

"Some blood was seen on his face, and he was asked 
whether he had been much injured? 

" 'No,' said he, 'I am not much hurt ; but in endeavoring 
to rise I have wounded my side, which now pains me more 
than it did.' 

"One of the citizens of Alexandria, who had heard of the 
outrage, addressed the General, and said : 'Sir, if you will 
pardon me, in case I am tried and convicted, I will kill Ran- 
dolph for this insult to you, in fifteen minutes !' 

" 'No, sir,' said the President, 'I cannot do that. I want no 
man to stand between me and my assailants, and none to take 
revenge on my account. Had I been prepared for this cow- 
ardly villain's approach, I can assure you all that he would 
never have the temerity to undertake such a thing again.' 

"Randolph published statements in the newspapers of the 
'wrongs* which he said he had received at the hands of the 
Government. 



Andrew Jackson 309 

''The opposition papers, though condemning the outrage, 
did not fail to remind the President of certain passages in his 
own Hfe and conversation which sanctioned a resort to violence. 
Randolph seems never to have been prosecuted for the as- 
sault. His friends said that his object was merely to pull the 
President's nose, which, they firmly declared he actually did." 

UNSELFISH FRIENDSHIP 

Francis P. Blair relates an anecdote showing that dearly 
as General Jackson loved a horse he loved his friend better. 
This is the story : 

''Three young horses, descended from the great Truxton, 
were brought from the Hermitage to Washington. On a 
beautiful spring day they were to be tried upon a race-course 
near the city. Early in the morning of that day, Mr. Blair 
had occasion to visit the President's office, where he found 
Major Donelson, booted and spurred, just about to ride away 
to the race-course to see what the young horses could do. 

" 'Come with us, Blair,' said Major Donelson, 'it's a fine 
day, and you'll enjoy it." 

" 'No,' said Mr. Blair, 'I can't go to-day. Besides, I've no 
horse.' 

" 'Well, get one from the livery stable.' 

" 'Not to-day, Major.' 

"The President, who was in the room, busy over some 
papers, cried out : 

" 'Why, Mr. Blair, take my horse. Donelson, order my 
horse for Mr. Blair.' 

"The Secretary hesitated, looked confused, and at last stam- 
mered out : 

" 'Well, Blair, come on, then.' 

"They walked out together, and getting to the bottom of 
the steps, found the General's well known horse already sad- 
dled and bridled. 



3 10 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

" 'Why, the General is going himself, then !' exclaimed Mr. 
Blair. 

" 'He was going,' said the Major, sorrowfully, 'but he 
won't go now.' 

" 'But let us go back and persuade him.' 

" 'It will be of no use,' said Major Donelson. 'He had 
set his heart upon seeing those colts run to-day. But he has 
now set his heart upon your going. I know him, Blair. It 
will only offend him if we say another word about it. He has 
made up his mind that you shall go, and that he will not. So, 
mount.' " 

STONEWALL JACKSON 

A NIGHT RIDE 

"LTERE is a trio of stories suggestive of Jackson's character 
-*- and the time. 

One evening Jackson was at Frederick's Hall. A notable 
lady of the town sent him an invitation to take breakfast with 
her the next morning, and he courteously thanked her and 
said : "If I can, I will be happy to do so." 

But when the good lady sent to summon him to breakfast, 
liis famous body servant, Jim, met the messenger with a look 
of astonishment, and said: "Lor, you surely didn't spec' to 
find the Ginerul here at dis hour, did you? You don't know 
him den. Why he left here at one o'clock dis mornin' and I 
spec' he is whippin' de Yankees in de Valley again by now." 
The truth was he had ridden into Richmond — a distance of 
fifty miles — to have an interview with General Lee, and re- 
ceive his final instructions as to the part he was to take in 
the great battle that was impending, and he did it so secretly 
that the army knew nothing of his absence, and Richmond 
nothing of his presence within her walls. 

It was on this ride that a characteristic incident occurred. 



Stonewaix Jackson 311 

Before day Mr. Matthew Hope, a respected citizen living in 
the lower part of Louisa County, was awakened by the clatter 
of horses' hoofs and a call in front of his house. Asking, 
"Who is there?" he received for answer: "Two Confederate 
officers who are on important business and want two fresh 
horses to ride. Have you two good horses ?" "Yes! I always 
keep good horses," was Mr. Hope's reply, "but I cannot lend 
them to every straggler who claims to be a Confederate officer 
on important business. You cannot have my horses." "But 
our business is very urgent. We must, and will have them,, 
and you had as well saddle them at once. We will leave our 
horses in their places." "I do not saddle my own horses," was 
the indignant reply. "I keep negroes for that purpose, and I 
shall certainly not saddle them for you, especially as I have 
no assurance that you will ever bring them back." 

The officers soon got the horses and galloped off with them, 
and Mr. Hope was very much astonished when several days 
afterward they were returned in good condition, "with the 
thanks and compliments of General Jackson," and exclaimed, 
"Why did he not tell me that he was Stonewall Jackson? 
If I had only known who he was I would have cheerfully 
given him all the horses on the place, and have saddled them 
for him, too!" 

It is related that on this march Jackson met one of Hood's 
Texans straggling from his command, when the following con- 
versation occurred : 

"Where are you going, sir?" 

"I don't know." 

"What command do you belong to?" 

"Don't know, sir." 

"What State are you from ?" 

"I cannot tell." 

"What do you know, then, sir?" 

"Nothing at all at this time, sir," replied the Texan; "old 



312 CapitaIv Storie;s About Famous Americans 

Stonewall says that we are to be knownothings until after the 
next fight, and you shall not make me violate his orders." 
Jackson smiled and passed on. 

WHY JACKSON DID NOT DRINK 

General Bradley T. Johnston relates the following incident 
of Jackson: 

"One evening he sent for me to come to his quarters, and 
I rode over to Bunker Hill to see him. He wanted to talk to 
me about my promotion, to secure which he greatly interested 
himself, and said I should stay there all night, and in the 
morning we would lay the subject before General Lee. I 
slipped out after this very diry conversation, and Hunter 
McGuire, his medical director, and I 'sampled' some very 
new and very fine apple-jack which Hunter had hid under his 
blankets in the mess tent. At the supper table — we had three 
turkeys for supper, I remember; the women of that neighbor- 
hood lavished good things to eat on 'their Stonewall' for he 
was 'theirs' — McGuire and I, moved and seduced by the spirit 
of mischief and possibly also by the spirit of apple-jack, started 
a learned discussion on the discovery, use and effects of alco- 
hol on the human physiology, its effect on the heart and circu- 
lation, and on the brain and the nerves. We concluded that 
it was an unmitigated evil and that we did not like either the 
taste or the effect of it. Drinking, we concluded, was the great 
curse of modern civilization ; we had the grace not to pretend 
that we did not drink but to deplore the abuse and extended use 
of alcohol and its bad effects. 

"So far the discussion had been confined to the two young 
braggarts, who were showing off their knowledge to hide their 
offenses. 

"The General sat straight, never looked to the right nor 
to the left, and let the cockerels crow themselves out. Then 
said he, 'I like the taste and effect both, that's the reason I 



Joseph Jei^ferson 313 

never touch it.' To this day I don't know whether he smelled 
a rat, from the odor of the apple-jack in the tent or the 
loquacity of the disquisition on the evil of drinking. But he 
shut us up." 

JACKSON UNDER FIRE 

General McLaws, of the Confederate service, relates this 
incident : 

"When the lines were reformed along the crest of the small 
elevation, which had been won from the enemy, a tremendous 
cannonade, hurling shot and shell and grape and canister at us 
from a very short range, was then going on. The enemy, hav- 
ing failed in the direct charge to drive our troops, were at- 
tempting to make us give way by this means. General Jack- 
son then came to where I was sitting on my horse, and we 
stood, he also on horseback, facing each other; and although 
from our standpoint we could not see the batteries of the 
enemy, yet it seemed as if our position was known to them, for 
while there ten or more shells were burst over our heads, and 
the sound of the shrapnel shot could be heard as it crashed 
through the branches of a tree not over five steps beyond us. 
One shell passed between General Jackson and myself, and 
one struck a courier and, I think, broke his leg, not ten feet 
from us, and fell between our horses. General Jackson looked 
at it and so did I, but it did not explode. General Jackson then 
remarked, 'The enemy, it seems, are getting our range/ and 
rode away, much to my gratification." 

JOSEPH JEFFERSON 

THE GIRL WHO SENT HIM HOME 
T Palm Beach, where stylish dressing is customary^ a 



A' 



friend of Joseph Jefferson, the veteran actor, was joking 
him about his bravado in remaining faithful to a rather dilapi- 



314 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

■dated brown coat which he was in the habit of wearing in the 
morning. 

"This coat and I are old friends," said Mr. Jefferson. "I 
know that it shows signs of wear and tear of long life, but I 
don't have to discard it down here, because everybody knows 
me. But in a big city, where one is apt to be judged by his 
appearance and treated accordingly, I admit that it is an ex- 
cellent plan to exercise care in the matter of clothing. In New 
York, one winter evening, just after it had become dark, I had 
this truth rather rubbed in. I had paused near- the entrance of 
the Fifth Avenue Hotel, where I was standing to wait for my 
son, who had stopped for a moment in a near-by shop. I sup- 
pose I did present a somewhat touching spectacle. I had on 
a soft, black hat, my overcoat was buttoned tightly around my 
throat, and my shoulders were hunched up, as if with cold. 
I remember that I was standing in a shadow, and I had a 
bundle of newspapers under my arm. 

"A young woman passed, glanced at me, hesitated, went 
on for a few steps, and then stopped and came back. 

" 'I should think you would be very cold standing here,' 
5he remarked, fumbling with her purse. 

" 'It is a little cool,' I answered. 

" 'Now, I tell you what I want you to do,' she exclaimed, 
brightly, when she had found a coin; 'I want you to go right 
home and get warm. I think you would better have a cup of 
coffee before you go. I will take all your papers.' 

" 'I, — I beg pardon,' I stammered, 'I would like to oblige 
you, but, you see, I have just bought these papers and havn't 
read them yet.' 

'"She discovered her mistake instantly, and put a world of 
mortification into her exclamation, 'Oh, I do hope you will 
pardon my stupidity !' I assured her that I did not regard it 
as stupidity, but as remarkable kindness of heart. I smiled, 
and she laughed and went on. 



Joseph Jefferson 315 

" 'It had been very embarrassing for her, and then and 
there I made a resolution to keep 'spruced up' a Httle better." 

A SHERIFF WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS 

"One of the many laughable incidents of a more or less re- 
cent tour in the West," said dear old "Joe" Jefferson, "took 
place at Gray's End, Missouri. You probably don't know the 
place, and couldn't find it on the map. All the same, the 
people thereabout are very good friends of mine, and, what is 
more, invariably make an eminently respectable showing at 
the box-office, which increases my regard for them. Now, 
the opera house at the 'End' began life as a big barn. As is 
the custom in that section of the State, the building is raised on 
pillars, some three or four feet. This, in its barny days, was 
to prevent its contents from being harmed during the annual 
spring overflow of the adjacent river. Well, on the occasion 
of which I speak, we reached the town early in the day. Illness 
had depleted the ranks of my 'supers,' and I found that I 
needed at least half a dozen more men in the Catskill scene of 
Rip Van Winkle. But I couldn't get any of the local talent 
to help me. They either wanted to see the show from the 
front, or were shy of making a professional dehut. Finally, 
I appealed to the Sherifif of the county, a very excellent per- 
son, who, I verily believe, slept with a small arsenal buckled 
around him. 'You shall have all the boys you want,' said he, 
'or, — ' I don't know what the 'or' implied, but I do know that, 
an hour or so later, he appeared with several strapping young 
fellows, on whom he kept a strenuous eye. He also ofifered to 
himself become one of 'Hendrick Hudson's' ghostly crew, 
which suggestion I gladly accepted. The curtain finally rose, 
and my volunteer aids acquitted themselves nobly. It had been 
with some difficulty that I had persuaded the Sheriff to doff 
his guns, but he finally consented to do so, with the proviso 
that they were to be kept handy in the wings. All went swim- 



3i6 Capital Storiks About Famous Americans 

ingly until 'Rip's' return home after his long sleep. In the 
midst of one of the most pathetic situations in this scene, there 
came, from beneath the theatre, the strident squeals of razor- 
back hogs, fighting for a choice morsel. The audience tittered. 
I continued, but then was heard a volleying chorus of grunts, 
squeals, screams, that told of a general engagement in the space 
beneath the floor. The Sheriff, who was standing at the wings, 
hissed, in a stage whisper : 'All right, Mr. Jefferson, I'll make 
the pesky critters quit.' He grabbed his pistols and disappeared. 
A few seconds later, there came a muffled bang! bang! bang! 
followed by the agonized howls of the wounded pigs. I 
stopped. I just had to. Fortunately, the spectators did not 
laugh. It was a familiar sound to them, and they remained 
impassive. The Sheriff reappeared, and then the play ran its 
course without further interruption. We had fresh pork chops 
for breakfast next day, but I'll never forget that night." 

THE OLD MAN'S MONOLOGUE 

There was a benefit performance in New York for a hos- 
pital, not long ago, and Joseph Jefferson, the veteran actor, 
volunteered. His part v.'as to make a short speech telling how 
the funds realized were to be applied. 

Two song-and-dance girls came from their dressing-room. 
They stopped to await their call. One of them thought she 
would see what was going on and peeked out on the stage. 

"Who's on now?" her companion asked. 

"Oh," said the investigator, "it's an old man doing a mono- 
logue, and say ! he's something fierce. He's been on ten min- 
utes already and hasn't had a laugh." 

WHEN JEFFERSON WAS ARRESTED 

Whenever Jefferson visits New Orleans, he is the guest of 
a secret order whose members are celebrated for their "hospita- 
ble" treatment of visitors. On one of these occasions two 



Joseph Jefferson 317 

leading members of the society were appointed policemen to 
conduct the guests to the platform. 

It was about midnight when the chairman thundered out : 
"Let the police arrest Joe Jefferson and bring him before the 
chair !" 

The roof nearly fell in with the applause as Jefferson was 
hustled up the main aisle of the hall to the stage. 

After bowing to the audience, he turned to the chairman 
and asked : "What am I arrested for, Mr. Chairman ?" 

"For discharging firearms in the Catskill Mountains and 
compassing the death of your dog Schneider," said the chair- 
man. 

The house again shook with applause when Jeft'erson re- 
joined : 

"Mr. Chairman, you must at least concede that," pointing 
to the audience, "the jurymen are with me." 

"I don't know," returned the chairman. "A duffer like you 
that has packed so many houses may have packed the jury." 

THE SPELL COMING ON AGAIN 

A number of years ago Jeft'erson played a one-night en- 
gagement in a small Indiana town, appearing in his favorite 
character. In the hotel at which he stopped was an Irishman 
recently "landed," who acted as porter and general assistant. 
Judged by the deep and serious interest which he took in the 
house, he might have been clerk, lessee and proprietor, com- 
bined into one. At about six o'clock in the morning Jefferson 
was startled by a violent thumping on his door. When he 
struggled into consciousness and realized that he had left no 
"call" order at the office, he was indignant. But his sleep was 
spoiled for that morning, so he rose, and soon after appeared 
before the clerk. 

"See here," he demanded of that individual, "why was I 
called at this unearthlv hour?" 



318 Capital Storie:s About Famous Americans 

"I don't know, sir," answered the clerk. "I'll ask Mike." 
The Irishman was summoned. Said the clerk: "Mike, 
there was no call for Mr. Jefferson. Why did you disturb 
him ?" 

Taking the clerk by the lapel of the coat, the Hibernian led 
him to one side, and said in a mysterious whisper: "He was 
snoring like a horse, sor, and Oi'd heard the boys say as how 
he were onct afther shlaping for twenty years, so Oi sez to me- 
self, sez I : 'Mike, it's coming onto him again, and it's yer 
duty to get the craythur out of your house at once." 

"DATS THE MAN". 

Mr. Jefferson once related the following : 

"In the village of Catskill there is a Rip Van Winkle Club. 
The society did me the honor to invite me to act the character in 
their town. I accepted, and when I arrived was met by the presi- 
dent and other members of the club, among whom was young 
Nicholas Vedder, who claimed to be a lineal descendant of the 
original 'old Nick.' I was taking a cup of tea at the table in 
the hotel, when I was attracted to the colored waiter, who was 
giving a detailed account of the legend of the Catskill Moun- 
tains to one of the boarders who sat nearly opposite me. 

" 'Yes, sah," said the waiter, 'Rip went up into de moun- 
tains, slep' for twenty years, and when he come back here in dis 
bery town his own folks didn't know him.' 

" 'Why,' said the listener, 'you don't believe the story's 
true ?' 

" 'True? Ob course it is! Why,' pointing at me, 'dat's de 
man.' 

"When I got to the theatre," said Jefferson, "I scarcely 
could get in, the crowd was so great about the door. In the 
scene in the last act, when Rip inquires of the innkeeper, 'Is 
this the village of Falling Water?' I altered the text and sub- 
stituted the correct name, 'Is this the village of Catskill ?' 



Thomas Jefferson 319 

"The name of the village seemed to bring home the scene 
to every man, woman and child that was looking at it. From 
that time on the interest was at its full tension. I never had 
seen an audience so struck with the play. 

"There was a reception held at the club after the play, 
and the president was so nervous that he introuduced me as 
Washington Irving." 

THOMAS JEFFERSON 

HIS LOVE STORY 

THOMAS JEFFERSON was an ardent and sentimental 
lover, we are told by William Eleroy Curtis, who also 
says that the great man's egotism appeared in his love affairs 
in a most amusing way. He adored several young women 
from time to time ; and to one of them, — Belinda, — when about 
twenty, he confessed his love, but explained that he could not 
positively engage himself to marry anyone for the present be- 
cause it would interfere with his studies and his plans for a 
trip to Europe ; he intimated that it might be profitable for her 
to await his pleasure and convenience as he expected sooner 
or later to renew his suit openly. We do not know what 
Belinda said in reply to this extraordinary proposition, but 
she evidently did not estimate the value of his affections so 
highly, for she promptly married another. Sometimes he re- 
fers to her in his diaries and letters as Bee-lin-day, or as 
Campan-in-die (bell in day). Then he writes her name in 
Greek, and often spells it backward. — Adnileb. He took her 
marriage rather hard. "Last night," he writes one of his con- 
fidantes, "as merry, as agreeable a company and dancing with 
Belinda in the Appolla could make me, I never thought the suc- 
ceeding sun would have seen me so wretched as I am." 

He Avas soon consoled by the attractions of a young woman 
named Rebecca Burwell, — some think that she and Belinda 



320 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

are the same person. He writes to one John Page, one of his 
classmates, saying: "Write me everything that happened at 
the wedding. Was she (Rebecca Burwell) there? Because, 
if she was, I ought to be censured for not being there too. 
If there is any news stirring in the town or country, such as 
deaths, courtships or marriages in the circle of my acquaint- 
ance, let me know it." 

Again he writes : "What have you done since I saw you ? 
What can I do but ask you the news of the world ? How did 
Nancy look when you danced with her at Southall's ? How did 
you any glimmering of hope? How does R. B. (Rebecca Bur- 
well) do? Had I better stay here and do nothing or go down 
and do less ? Inclination tells me to go, receive my sentence 
and be no longer in suspense, but reason says if you go, and if 
your attempt proves unsuccessful you will be ten times more 
wretched than before ;" and to another friend : 

"Dear Will, I have thought of the cleverest plan of life that 
can be imagined. You exchange your land for Edgehill and 
I mine for Fairfields. You marry S. P. and I marry R. B., 
join and get a pole chair, and a keen pair of horses, practice 
law in the same court and drive about to all the dames in the 
country together. How do you like it?" 

He built a "full-rigged flat," as he termed it, on the river, 
and named it "The Rebecca," but she jilted him before it was 
launched, and there is no further reference to the enterprise. 
Rebecca Burwell married Jacquelin Ambler, who afterwards 
became State Treasurer and was called "The Aristides of Vir- 
ginia," because he was just; and John Alarshall, Chief Justice 
of the United States, married their daughter. It is a curious 
coincidence that his brother, Edward Ambler, married Miss 
Cary, who rejected Washington. 

It came within the power of Jefferson to do friendly ser- 
vice for the husband of his former sweetheart on several occa- 
sions, and when her father, who at the time of her marriage 



Thomas Jefferson 321 

was one of the richest and proudest men in Virginia, became 
impoverished in his old age, it is said that Jefferson secured 
for him an appointment as tipstaff in one of the courts. 

There were others also. Patsy Dandridge, Betsy Page, and 
two or three other young ladies are frequently referred to in 
his youthful correspondence as objects of admiration, but there 
is no evidence that they were more than friends. Miss Molly 
Elliott Seawell says that a fly-leaf of an old book in the library 
of the late Boswell Seawell, of Gloucester County, Virginia, 
contains the following inscription said to be in the handwriting 
of Jefferson : 

"Jane Nelson is a neat girl 
Betsy Page is a sweet girl 
Rebecca Burwell is * * * 

and then follow two lines, which, for Jefferson, are extremely 
"sulphurous," and much better omitted and forgotten. 

Among Jefferson's associates at the Williamsburg bar was 
John Wayles, a lawyer of large practice who had a fine estate 
on the edge of the town called "The Forest," a dozen planta- 
tions, large tracts of wild land in various parts of the colony, 
and over four hundred slaves. His widowed daughter, Martha 
Skelton, a famous beauty, fond of admiration and music, lived 
with him, and Jefferson was in the habit of taking his violin out 
to "The Forest'' of an evening to play duets with her. Their 
acquaintance extended over three or four years. She was a 
widow in 1768. He first mentions his love for her in 1770, 
and they were married on New Year's Day, 1772. He left 
a number of letters concerning his courtship of the pretty 
widow with the pretty fortune which indicate that he was 
scarcely off with an old love before he was on with the new, 
and had considerable vexation in adjusting his conduct to the 
satisfaction of his own conscience. The story goes that he 
was spurred into an engagement with ]\Iartha Skelton by the 



122 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

rivalry of two friends, with whom he came to an understand- 
ing that they should draw cuts for the first proposal. If the 
first were rejected, he was to retire and give the next a chance, 
and if number two were not accepted, the third was at liberty 
to propose. Jefi'erson drew number one, and started for the 
Wayles plantation. His rivals followed him and hung over the 
hedge listening to the music as he played duets with his 
inamorata. They concluded from the joyful tones of his in- 
strument that his wooing was successful, and walked home 
disconsolate. 

The license-bond for the marriage required by the laws of 
Virginia was written in Jeiiferson's own hand, and is signed 
by him with Francis Eppes, a neighbor, whose son afterwards 
married Jefferson's daughter, as surety. He must have been a 
little nervous or absent-minded at the time, for he describes 
his bride as "a spinster." Somebody corrected the mistake by 
running a pen through "spinster" and writing the word 
"widow" over it; but Jefferson was not so agitated that he 
neglected to set down in his account book every item of ex- 
penditure in connection with his wedding. We find that he 
"loaned Mrs. Skelton ten shillings" two days before the cere- 
mony, paid forty shillings for the marriage license ; gave five 
pounds to the Reverend Mr. Coutts, the minister who married 
them ; and then borrowed twenty shillings from the parson 
before the close of the day. He gave ten shillings to the 
fiddler and five shillings to each of the servants of the house- 
hold. 

STORY OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE 

John Adams has left us the most interesting and probably 
the most accurate account of the proceedings of the committee. 
There were several meetings, he said, in which the subject was 
generally discussed and various propositions suggested which 
Jefferson was asked "to clothe in proper dress." "Mr. Jeffer- 



Thomas Jefferson 323 

son desired me to make the draught," Adams says. ''This I 
decHned and gave several reasons for declining. First, that he 
was a Virginian and I a Massachiisettensian, and it was the 
policy to place Virginia at the head of everything. 2. He was 
a Southern man and I a Northern one. 3. I had been so un- 
popular and obnoxious for my early and continual zeal in 
promoting the measure that any draught of mine would under- 
go more criticism and scrutiny in Congress than one of his 
composition, and 4, and lastly, there would be reason enough 
if there were no other, I had a great opinion of the elegance 
of his pen and none at all of my own," 

Jefferson first submitted his manuscript to Adams and 
Franklin, who suggested some verbal changes of no import- 
ance. "I was delighted with its high tone," continues Adams, 
"and the flights of oratory in which it abounded, especially 
that concerning negro slavery, which though I knew his South- 
ern brethren would never suffer to pass in Congress, I never 
would opix)se. There are other clauses which I would not 
have inserted, if I had drawn it up, particularly that which 
called the King a tyrant. I thought this too personal, for I 
never believed George to be a tyrant in disposition or nature. 

We reported to the committee of five. It was read and I 
do not remember that Franklin or Sherman criticised any- 
thing. Congress was impatient and the instrument was re- 
ported in Jeft'erson's hand writing as he originally drew it. 
Congress cut off about a quarter of it as I expected they would, 
but they obliterated some of the best of it. 

Jefferson was not pleased with Adams' version, and in 
1823, forty-seven years after the fact, gave his own as follows : 

"The committee of five met ; no such things as a sub-com- 
mittee was proposed, but they unanimously pressed on myself 
alone to undertake the draft. I consented ; I drew it ; but be- 
fore I reported it to the committee, I communicated it sepa- 
rately to Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams, requesting their cor- 



324 CapwaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

rection, because they were the two members of whose judg- 
ments and amendments 1 wished most to have the benefit, be- 
fore presenting it to the committee; and you have seen the 
original paper now in my hands, with the corrections of Dr. 
FrankHn and Mr. Adams, interlined in their own handwritings. 
Their alterations were two or three only, and merely verbal. 
I then wrote a fair copy, reported it to the committee, and from 
them, unaltered to Congress. Pickering's observations, and 
Adams' in addition, 'that it contained no new ideas, that it is 
a commonplace compilation, its sentiments hackneyed in Con- 
gress for two years before, and its essence contained in Otis' 
pamphelt,' may all be true. Of that I am not to be the judge. 
Richard Henry Lee charged it as copied from Locke's Treatise 
on Civil Government. Otis' pamphlet I never saw, and 
whether I have gathered my ideas from reading or reflection, 
I do not know. I know only that I turned to neither book nor 
pamphlet while writing it. I did not consider it as any part 
of my charge to invent new ideas altogether, and to oflfer no 
sentiment which had ever been expressed before. 

"This, however, I will say for Mr. Adams, that he sup- 
ported the Declaration with zeal and ability, fighting fearlessly 
for every word of it. As for myself, I thought it a duty to be, 
on that occasion, a passive auditor of the opinions of others, 
more impartial judges than I could be, of its merits or demerits. 
During the debate I was sitting by Dr. Franklin and he 
observed that I was rising a little under the acrimonious criti- 
cisms of some of its parts ; and it was on that occasion, that by 
way of comfort, he told me the story of John Thompson, the 
hatter, and his new sign. 

"At the time of writing the Declaration, I lodged in a 
house of a Mr. Graflf, a new brick house, three stories high, of 
which I rented the second floor, consisting of a parlor and bed- 
room, ready furnished. In that parlor I wrote habitually, and 
in it wrote this paper particularly. So far I state from written 



Thomas Jef'i'Erson 325 

proofs in my possession. The proprietor, Graaf, was a young- 
man, son of a German, and then newly married. I think he 
was a bricklayer, and that his house was on the south side of 
Market Street, probably between Seventh and Eighth Streets, 
•and if not the only house on that part of the street, I am sure 
there were few others near it." 

There has long been a dispute as to the house in which the 
Declaration was written, four buildings in the city of Philadel- 
phia claiming the honor, but the testimony of Jefferson as 
above given has been accepted as final, and a tablet now marks 
the spot, which is occupied by a banking building at the cor- 
ner of Seventh and Market Streets. 

As Adams and Jefferson agree, the committee suggested 
only a few unimportant verbal changes, but the three days' dis- 
cussion that followed in the House was critical and caustic, 
causing Jefferson's sensative nature intense mortification, 
although any critic who compares the original draft and that 
which was finally adopted must admit that the document was 
considerably improved. Congress suppressed eighteen sen- 
tences, amended ten, and added six. There were also some 
verbal alterations ; for example, where Jefferson said that men 
"are endowed with inherent and inalienable rights," Congress 
struck out "inherent." A clause reading "to prove this let the 
facts be submitted to a candid world, for the truth of which 
we pledge a faith yet unsullied by falsehood" was stricken out. 
The paragraph denouncing slavery, which Jefferson had pre- 
pared with so much eloquence, and which pleased Adams, was 
omitted because a majority of the members thought it incon- 
sistent to hold George III. responsible for a slave-trade carried 
on by New England ship-masters for the benefit of the cotton 
and tobacco planters of the South. 

Jefferson sat silent though the entire debate, so conscious of 
his weakness in oratory that he did not allow himself to defend 
the pet passages in his momentous document. The responsi- 



3-X> CAinTAU SiVKiKs Ar«OLV Famols Ami;ku\\ns 

bility of presenting and sustaining the reiK^tt of the conunittee 
was ably assunuxi by John Ad:uns. whom Jefferson gratefully 
called "the Colossus" of that great debate. There is no tell- 
ing how much the discussion might have been prolonge<.i. but 
for the interposition of a swanu of hungry tlies. which came 
in through the o^xni windows from a livery stable in the 
neighborhood, and stung the leg^s of the honorable members 
through their silk stocking's. Jefferson, who usually had 
very little sense of humor, used to tell the story with great 
amusement, and is authority for the statement that the annoy- 
ance became at length so great that a vote was demanded be- 
fore the document had been discussed by many gentlemen who 
desired to speak upon it. 

There has always been a controversy as to the manner in 
which the Declaration was signed, but we know from his own 
testimony that it was adopted late on Thursday afternoon. July 
4th, and was held open for sigiiatures imtil late in the follow- 
ing Augiisr. because some of the deleg-ates thought it best to 
await explicit instructions from tlieir States. 

Although they fully realized the solemnity and importance 
of their proceevlings. the honorable delegiites indulged in a few 
jests, and the best of them have sur\-ived the century. \Mien 
John Hancock affixed his magnificent signature, he remarked. 
"There. John Bull can read my name without his spectacles." 

WTien Hancock urged tlie members of the Congress to hang 
together. Franklin retorteii: 

"Yes. we must hang together or we shall all hang sepa- 
rately." 

Benjamin Harrison, who is described by John Adams as 
*'a luxurious, heavy gentleman." remarked to Elbridge Gerry, 
who was very small of stature : 

"\\~lien the hanging comes I shall have the advantage, for 
}-ou will be kicking in the air when it is all over with me." 

In one of the corridors of the Capitol at Washington is a 



Thomas Jefpetjsok 7/^-7 

::jiix\i\t statue of John Yiixxcfjck, v/hich bears upon it= pedestal 
the following inscription: 

"He wrote hi-; name where 
all nations should behold it 
and all time should 
not efface it" 

On the Monday following^, at noon, the Declaration was 
publicly read for the first time in Independence Square, Phila- 
delphia, from a platform erected by David Rittenhouse for the 
purpose of observing the transit of \'enus. Captain John 
Hopkins, the young commander of the first armed brig of the 
na^y of the new nation, was the reader, and his stentorian voice 
carried the words to all the multitude who had assembled to 
bear it. 

JEFFERSONIAN SIMPLiOTY 

Jefferson's grandson says that while President, Thomas 
Jefferson was once returning on horseback from Charlottes- 
ville to Monticello with a party of gentlemen he had invited to 
dinner, when, on reaching a stream where there was no bridge, 
a stranger asked to be taken up on his horse behind him. 
After Jefferson had put the stranger down on dn.- land and 
ridden on, one of the guests inquired why he had not asked 
one of the others to carry him over. He replied : 

'"From their looks I did not like to ask them ; but the old 
gentleman looked as if he would do it, so I asked him." 

He was much surprised to hear that he had ridden behind 
the President of the United States. 

According to one of the hackneyed anecdotes of his Presi- 
dency-, '*he was riding along a highway leading to Washing- 
ton one day, when he overtook a man walking towards the cit;/. 
As vras his habit, Jefferson drew up his horse and touched his 



328 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

hat to the pedestrian. The man returned his sahitation, and 
began a conversation, not knowing who he was. He at once 
entered upon the subject of poHtics, — as was the habit of the 
day, — and began to abuse the President. Jefferson's first im- 
pulse was to ride on, but, amused at his own situation, asked 
the man if he knew the President personally. 'No,' was the re- 
ply, 'nor do I wish to.' 

*' 'But do you think it fair,' suggested Jefferson, 'to re- 
peat such stories about a man whom you dare not face ?' 

" 'I will never shrink from meeting Mr. Jefferson should 
he ever come my way,' replied the stranger, who proved to be 
a country merchant of high standing from Kentucky. 

" 'Will you go to his house to-morrow at ten o'clock and 
be introduced to him, if I promise to meet you there at that 
hour?' asked Jefferson eagerly. 

" 'Yes, I will,' said the man, after a moment's thought. 

"With a half-suppressed smile, and excusing himself from 
further conversation, the President touched his hat and rode 
on. Hardly had he disappeared from sight before a suspicion 
of the truth, which he soon verified, flashed through the strang- 
er's mind. However, at the appointed hour the next day, 'Mr. 
Jefferson's yesterday's companion,' was announced, and entered 
the President's office. His situation was embarrassing, but 
with a gentlemanly bearing, though with some confusion, he 
began, 'I have called to apologize for having said to a 
stranger — 

" 'Hard things of an imaginary being, who is no relation of 
mine,' interrupted Mr. Jefferson, as he gave him his hand, while 
his countenance was radiant with a smile of mingled good- 
nature and amusement. 

"The Kentuckian once more began his apologies which 
Jeft'erson good-naturedly laughed off, and, changing the sub- 
ject, soon captivated his guest by one of his most delightful 
strains of conversation." 



Tom L. Johnson 329 

TOM L. JOHNSON 

FROM NEWSBOY TO MAYOR 

T>DBERT MACKAY gives this striking little sketch of how 
"^^ Tom L. Johnson, the famous millionaire Ma>'or of 
Cleveland climbed from newsboy through college to the heights 
of success : 

"At the close of the Civil War a discharged Confederate 
soldier and his wife and family, trudged wearily over the 
foothills of Kentucky, from their little homestead in the village 
of Georgetown to Staunton, \'irginia, for protection. The 
family consisted of two boys, bright cheery fellows. One 
was tired and sore from the continued tramp over the hard 
roadways, but the other was helping him as best he could, and 
urging him on to the place where rest awaited them. At the 
same time, he was encouraging his down-hearted father and 
mother with kind words. 'Don't mind, pa,' he said : 'I kin 
sell papers, an' will give you all I make.' 

"When Tom Johnson told his father that he would sell 
papers to help him along, he was just eleven years old. In the 
five weeks immediately following Lee's surrender, he proved 
that he had the head of a financier. In that period, he earned 
eighty-eight dollars. There was great thirst for news in 
Staunton, but once a day, only, was it in communication with 
the outside world, and then it was by railroad. Tom saw his 
chance for a monopoly in papers, and straightway cornered the 
market. He made the friendship of the conductor of Staun- 
ton's daily train, who turned over to him all the papers. For 
five weeks he held this monopoly, selling daily papers for fif- 
teen cents each. 

"Three years later, he went to work in a rolling mill in 
Louisville, at a small salary. In the same office with him was 
another boy, Arthur Moxam, who, later, became his business 
partner. For economical reasons, the managers decided that 



330 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

one of the boys had to go. When it came to a choice, Moxam 
was retained, and Johnson was turned out to begin over again, 

"Louisville had a ramshackle, broken-down street railway, 
the cars of which were drawn by mules, when Tom Johnson 
applied there for work. Recently, he sold his interest in that 
railway for a handsome profit, after being, for fifteen years, 
its largest stockholder, and chiefly instrumental in changing it 
from mule to electric power. 

"After young Johnson had been connected with the railway 
a few weeks, its president, Biderman du Pont, noticed him 
picking up some pieces of scrap iron and depositing them in a 
barrel that stood near the entrance to the car shops. 

" 'What are you doing that for ?' asked Mr. Du Pont, rather 
sternly. 

" 'Why, sir,' said Tom, a little embarrassed, 'there is no use 
wasting these pieces of iron. The company may want to have 
them melted over, some day.' 

"Mr. Du Pont went into his office and thought. He sent for 
Tom, and said: 'I just think I have some work for a young 
man like you. How would you like to stay in the office and 
have your salary raised five dollars a week ?' 

"Then Tom L. Johnson went up like a rocket; but, unlike 
many rockets, he stayed up. He quickly rose from position to 
position, — from office boy to chief cashier; and, on his seven- 
teenth birthday, he was made superintendent of the road. 
Then he began a system that improved the road and put it on 
a paying basis. He improved the passenger accommodations 
and reduced the expenses. Three years as superintendent of 
this road made him long for wider fields of action. He told 
his employers that his scope was too limited. Mr. Du Pont 
had every confidence in his protege. He knew that the ambi- 
tious young man would try to succeed honestly. 

"One morning, the office boy told Mr. Johnson that Mr. 
Du Pont wanted to see him. Johnson entered the president's 



Paul Jones 331 

private office, little dreaming of all that was in store for him. 
Without rising from his chair, Mr. Du Pont handed his youth- 
ful superintendent a certified check for thirty thousand dollars, 
with the information that he was honorably discharged, and 
could try his fortune in the open mart. 

" 'But the security?' queried Tom Johnson. 

" 'Your word is enough for me,' said Mr. Du Pont. 'If 
you live, I know you'll pay it back ; if you die, why, I'll be out 
just so much. But you'll live, Tom; and now, go in and win.' 

"Later Tom Johnson had the pleasure of associating two of 
Mr. Du Pont's sons in some of his many business ventures. 
With the generous loan, the young financier organized a tri- 
umvirate for the purchase of the street railways in Indian- 
apolis, making the first step in the course that enabled him to 
absorb the street-car lines of Cleveland, Detroit, St. Louis, and 
other cities. 

"Mr. Johnson has no business interests, to-day. He is many 
times a millionaire, and will devote his life to advocating those 
principles of economics which he honestly believes to be of the 
greatest possible importance to the public good." 

PAUL JONES 

A MEMORABLE SEA FIGHT 

EDWARD S. ELLIS, in his book entitled "Dewey and 
other Naval Commanders," relates the wonderful ex- 
ploit of Captain Paul Jones in a sea fight which will be forever 
memorable in American history : 

"It was Sept. 23rd. 1779. It was near noon, while the 
American squadron was chasing a British brigantine and was 
approaching Flamborough Head from the south, that a large 
sail was discovered, rounding that promontory. Another and 
another followed. The astonished Americans counted them 
until the number had mounted up to forty-two. 



2,2,2 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Ame:ricans 

"It was a startling sight, for if these vessels were ships of 
war nothing could save the American squadron or, if most of 
them were merchantmen, under a strong escort, the peril of 
Captain Jones and his crews would be almost as great. The 
Commander' studied the fleet through his glass, allowing it 
to come closer and closer and holding himself ready to flee, 
should it be necessary to do so. Finally, after a long scrutiny, 
his face lit up with exultation. There were only two war 
vessels in the fleet, and he gave the signal for immediate pursuit, 

"The Scrapis, commanded by Captain Pearson, knew that he 
was confronted by the redoubtable Paul Jones, and he wel- 
comed a fight with him, for the British Captain was one of 
the bravest of men. He signalled for the merchantmen to scat- 
ter, and they did so with the utmost haste, while the frigate 
with her consort, the Countess of Scarborough, boldly ad- 
vanced to engage the American squadron. 

"It was at this critical moment that the Captain of the 
Alliance once more showed his insubordination. He refused 
to obey Jones' signal to fall to the rear of the Bonhomme Rich- 
ard and the Pallas for a time was equally disobedient. Soon, 
however, she changed her conduct and gallantly advanced to 
engage the Countess of Scarborough. Captain Lindais, how- 
ever, sullenly kept out of the battle, and, as we shall presently 
learn, did even worse than that. 

"Captain Pearson, of the Scrapis, waited until his convoy 
was beyond danger, when he tacked inshore. Fearing he would 
get away, Jones ran between him and the land. It was now 
growing dark, and it was hard for the American commander to 
follow the movements of his enemy. But the latter was not flee- 
ing, and, although dimly visible to each other, the two antag- 
onists began cautiously approaching, both on the alert for any 
advantage that might present itself. Nothing but the rippling 
of water made by the vessels broke the profound, expectant 
hush that rested upon both. 



Paul Jones 333 

"Suddenly from the gloom came the voice of the Captain of 
the Serapis: 

" 'What ship is that?' 

"Jones wished to get nearer before opening fire and re- 
plied : 

"'I do not understand you; speak louder.' 

" 'What ship is that?' repeated the other in a louder voice 
through his trumpet. 'Answer or I shall fire into you.' 

"Jones made no reply, knowing that it was useless, but con- 
tinued to edge near his antagonist. A minute later both ships 
discharged a broadside at the same moment, the gloom being 
lit up by spouts of crimson flame, while the thunder 'shook the 
mighty deep' and the sulphurous smoke rolled slowly upward 
and drifted through the rigging. Then again came a minute 
or so of impressive stillness, while the crews of both looked 
around to learn the results of the awful tempest of round shot, 
grape and canister of which they had been the targets. 

"Sad work, indeed, had been done, for from each vessel rose 
the cries of the wounded and dying — cries that inspired their 
companions to revenge and caused them to hasten the reload- 
ing and firing of the cannon. But unfortunately the Bonhomme 
Richard suffered from her own guns as well as from those of 
the enemy. On the lower gun deck was an improvised battery 
of six eighteen pounders, two of which burst, killing most of 
the men that worked there, and tearing away the deck above 
them. The remainder of the men refused to serve the other 
guns, and thus the Bonhomme Richard was deprived of the 
services of her heaviest battery in addition to the serious loss 
in dead and wounded. 

"Captain Jones forged ahead, crossed his enemy's bows 
while the latter came up on his port quarter. They were with- 
in a biscuit's toss of each other, wrapped in dense smoke, lit 
up by the jets of flame which were continuous. Mingled with 
the teriffic booming was the spitely rattle of musketry from 



334 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

the tops and yells and cries of the wounded. The decks of the 
Bonhomme Richard were sHppery with blood which increased 
until the men, as they ran to and fro, splashed in it, like child- 
ren playing in a mud puddle, and it was the same on the 
Scrapis. It found its outlet through the scruppers and crim- 
soned the deep blue of the ocean. 

"Some of the shots from the Scrapis pierced the Bonhomme 
Richard under the water line, causing her to leak badly. De- 
prived of his 1 8-pound guns by reason of the accident men- 
tioned, Jones was forced to rely upon his 12-pounders. They 
were worked for all that was in them, but the whole fourteen 
were silenced in little more than half an hour and seven of the 
quarter deck and forcastle guns were dismounted. She was 
left with three 9-pounders, which being loaded and aimed 
under the eye of Jones himself, did frightful execution. 

"An hour had passed and the men were fighting furiously, 
when the full moon appeared above the horizon and lit up the 
fearful scene. The Scrapis attempted to cross the bow of the 
Bonhomme Richard, but miscalculated and the Bonhomme 
Richard shoved her bowsprit over the other's stern. In the lull 
that followed, when each expected his antagonist to board, 
Captain Pearson called out: 

" 'Have you struck ?' 

" 'Struck ! shouted back Jones ; 'I am just beginning to 
fight!" 

"The Scrapis made another effort to get into position to 
rake the American, but in the blinding smoke she ran her 
jibboom afoul of the starboard mizzen shrouds of the Bon- 
homme Richard. Captain Jones himself lashed the spar to the 
rigging, knowing that his only chance was in fighting at close 
quarters, but the swaying of the ships broke them apart. At 
that instant, however, the spare anchor of the Scrapis caught 
on the American's quarter and held the two vessels, as may be 
said, locked in each other's arms. 



Paul Jones 335 

"They were so close, indeed, that the English gunners could 
not raise the lower port lids, and they blew them off by firing 
their cannon through them. The men on each ship in loading 
were forced to push their rammers into the ports of the other 
vessel. The Bonhomme Richard was set on fire by burning 
wads, but the flames were speedily extinguished, 

"The explosion of the American's lower guns at the open- 
ing of the battle had made her helpless against the correspond- 
ing battery of the enemy, which pounded away until a huge, 
yawning gap was opened. Some of the shots went clean 
through the battered hull and splashed into the water, hun- 
dreds of feet distant. The disadvantage was more than offset 
by the concentration of the Americans on the upper deck and 
in the rigging. The fire of the Bonhomme Richard became 
so terrible that every officer and man of the enemy kept out of 
sight, observing which an American seaman crawled out on 
the main yard, carrying a bucket of hand grenades which he 
threw wherever he saw a man. He did this with such excel- 
lent aim that he dropped one through the main hatchway into 
the gun room. It fell into a heap of powder and produced an 
explosion that was awful beyond description, for it killed and 
wounded thirty-eight men and really decided the battle. — 

"At that moment, when it all seemed over, Captain Landais 
fired a broadside from the Alliance into the Bonhomme Richard. 
Captain Jones called to him in God's name to desist. But he cir- 
cled about the two ships, and fired again and again into his 
ally, killing and wounding a number of men and officers. It 
was believed that the Alliance had been captured by the enemy 
and had joined in the attack on the Bonhomme Richard which 
was so injured that she began slowly to sink. Having wrought 
this irreparable damage, the Alliance drew oft' and ceased her 
murderous work. 

"Jones incited his prisoners to desperate pumping by the re- 
port that the Serapis must soon go down and the only way to 



336 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

save themselves from drowning was to keep the Bonhomme 
afloat. An officer ran to the quarter deck to haul down the 
colors, but they had been shot away. He then hurried to the 
tafif rail and shouted for quarter. Jones being in another part 
of the ship, did not hear him. The British commander mus- 
tered his men to board the American, but they were driven 
back by the firing from the rigging of the Bonhomme Richard. 
The condition of the latter could not have been more des- 
perate. She was so mangled that she began to settle, most of 
her guns had been disabled, a fire that could not be checked was 
already close to her magazine and several hundred prisoners 
were stealing here and there, waiting for a chance to strike 
from behind. 

"A deserter had slipped on board of the Serapis in the con- 
fusion and acquainted the Commander with the frightful plight 
of the American. After firing with renewed ardor for several 
minutes Captain Pearson again called to know whether Jones 
had surrendered. He shouted back a defiant negative, and, 
pistol in hand, ordered his men to the guns, threatening to kill 
the first one who refused. All knew his temper too well to hes- 
itate, and the battle was renewed with greater fury than before. 
Captain Pearson could not believe the condition of the Bon- 
homme Richard as bad as was represented by the deserter. 
He had lost a great many men, all his guns were silenced, and, 
being utterly unable to make any further defence, he hauled 
down his flag with his own hands. 

"The surrender was just in time to save the Bonhomme 
Richard, which was in danger of going down and blowing up. 
The united efforts of both crews were necessary to extinguish 
the flames before they reached the magazine. She was kept 
afloat through the night, while the wounded and prisoners were 
transferred to the Serapis. Then the battered and riddled old 
hulk plunged downward bow foremost into the depths of the 
German Ocean. 



I 



Paul Jones 337 

"This battle has never been surpassed in heroism. Both 
sides fought with a bravery that has given the conflict a place 
by itself in naval annals, and it would always stand as a proof 
of the dauntless courage of the Anglo-Saxon beyond the reach 
of those of the Latin race. The Bonhomme Richard had forty- 
two guns and the Serapis fifty; the American crew numbered 
three hundred and four and the English three hundred and 
twenty. The killed on each side was forty-nine. The wounded 
on the Bonhomme Richard was one hundred and sixteen, and 
on the Serapis one hundred and seventeen. There being a dif- 
ference of only one in the total of killed and wounded. The 
battle lasted three hours and a half. 

"The Countess of Scarborough made a gallant resistance 
for two hours, when she was so crippled that she was com- 
pelled to surrender to the Frenchman. An investigation into 
the treacherous conduct of Captain Landais caused many to 
believe him insane, though others were convinced that he was 
inspired by intense jealousy of Captain Jones. He was dis- 
charged from both the French and American navy. Benjamin 
Franklin was among those who believed he deserved punish- 
ment for his perfidy. 

"The Serapis and Countess of Scarborough was refitted 
and given to France, while Captain Jones was placed in com- 
mand of the Alliance. He was loaded with honors in France, 
the King presented him with a gold sword, and when he sailed 
for the United States he gave another exhibition of his superb 
seamanship by eluding the blockaders that were waiting for him 
outside of Texel, running through the Straits of Dover and 
then defiantly standing down the English Channel in full view 
of more than one of the largest British fleets. He reached the 
United States in June, 1780, without mishap. 

"Congress gave Captain Jones a vote of thanks, and, had 
the war continued, no doubt he would have rendered more bril- 
Hant service for the country he loved so well, but before he 



1 



H 



338 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

could be given a fitting command hostilities ceased. He had 
won a world-wide reputation and accepted the appointment of 
Rear-Admiral in the Russian navy, but gained no oppor- 
tunity to display his marvelous prowess. He died in Paris 
in 1792. 

HELEN KELLER 

FEELING FOR THE LIGHT 

ELEN KELLER is in many respects the most remark- 
able woman in the world. Modern science, through the 
aid of loving personality has tunneled through the triple wall 
of the blind, deaf and dumb, and brought forth to the world 
a charming womanhood. In her marvellously interesting au- 
tobiography, entitled The Story of My Life, Miss Keller 
tells of the day when she was feeling for the light : 

The most important day I remember in all my life is the 
one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, came to 
me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasur- 
able contrast between the two lives which it connects. It was 
the third of March, 1887, three months before I was seven 
year old. 

On the afternoon of that eventful-day, I stood on the 
porch, dumb, expectant. I guessed vaguely, from my moth- 
er's signs, and from the hurrying to and fro in the house that 
something unusual was about to happen, so I went to the door, 
and waited on the steps. The afternoon sun penetrated the 
mass of honeysuckle that covered the porch, and fell on my up- 
turned face. My fingers lingered almost unconsciously on 
the familiar leaves and blossoms which had just come forth 
to greet the sweet Southern spring. I did not know what the 
future held of marvel or surprise to me. Anger and bitterness 
had preyed upon me continually for weeks, and a deep langor 
had succeeded this passionate struggle. 




FREDERICK FUNSTON ROBERT E. PEARY 

LEW. WALLACE 
WILLIAM F. CODY JOSEPH WHEELER 



Heilen Kei.i,er 341 

Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed 
as if a tangible white darkness shut you in, as the great ship, 
tense and anxious, groped her way toward the shore with 
plummet and sounding line, and you waited with beating heart 
for something to happen ? I was like that ship before my edu- 
cation began, only I was without compass or sounding-line, 
and had no way of knowing how near the harbor was. "Light ! 
give me light !" was the wordless cry of my soul, and the light 
of love shone on me in that very hour. 

I felt approaching footsteps. I stretched out my hand as 
I supposed to my mother. Some one took it, and I was caught 
up and held close in the arms of her who had come to reveal 
all things to me, and, more than all things else, to love me. 

The morning after my teacher came she led me into her 
room and gave me a doll. The little blind children at the Perk- 
ins Institution had sent it and Laura Bridgman had dressed it ; 
but I did not know this till afterward. When I had played with 
it a little while. Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the 
word "d-o-1-1." I was at once interested in this finger play and 
tried to imitate it. When I finally succeeded in making the 
letters correctly I was flushed with childish pleasure and pride. 
Running down stairs to my mother I held up my hand and 
made the letters for doll. I did not know that I was spelling a 
word or even that words existed ; I was simply making my 
fingers go in monkey-like imitation. In the days that 
followed I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way a 
great many words, among them piti, hat, cup and a few verbs 
like sit, stand and zvalk. But my teacher had been with me 
several weeks before I understood that everything has a name. 

One day, when I was playing with my new doll, Miss Sulli- 
van put my big rag doll into my lap also, spelled "d-o-l-l" and 
tried to make me understand that "d-o-1-1" applied to both. 
Earlier in the day we had had a tussel over the words "m-u-g" 
and "w-a-t-e-r." Miss Sullivan tried to impress it upon me 



342 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

that "m-u-g" is iniig and that "w-a-t-e-r" is water, but I pre- 
sisted in confounding the two. In despair she had dropped the 
subject for the time, only to renew it at the first opportunity. 
I became impatient at her repeated attempts and, seizing the 
new doll, I dashed it upon the floor. I was keenly delighted 
when I felt the fragments of the broken doll at my feet. Neith- 
er sorrow nor regret followed my passionate outburst. I had 
not loved the doll. In the still, dark world in which I lived 
there was no strong sentiment or tenderness. I felt my teach- 
er sweep the fragments to one side of the hearth, and I had a 
sense of satisfaction that the cause of my discomfort was re- 
moved. She brought me my hat, and I knew I was going out 
into the warm sunshine. This thought, if a wordless sensa- 
tion may be called a thought, made me hop and skip with 
pleasure. 

We walked down the path to the well-house, attracted by 
the fragrance of the honeysuckle with which it was covered. 
Some one was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand 
under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand 
she spelled into the other the word ivater, first slowly, then 
rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the mo- 
tions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as 
of something forgotten — a thrill of returning thought; and 
somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I 
knew then that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool some- 
thing that was flowing over my hand. That living word awak- 
ened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! There were 
barriers still, it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept 
away. 

I left the well-house, eager to learn. Everything had a 
name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we re- 
turned to the house every object which I touched seemed to 
quiver with life. That was because I saw everything with the 
strange, new sight, that had come to me. On entering the 



Helen Keller 343 

door, I remembered the doll I had broken. I felt my way to 
the hearth, and picked up the pieces. I tried vainly to put them 
together. Then my eyes filled with tears ; for I realized what 
I had done, and for the first time I felt repentance and sorrow. 
I learned a great many new words that day. I do not 
remember what they all were; but I do know that mother, 
father, sister, teacher, were among them — words that were to 
make the world blossom for me, "like Aaron's rod," with flow- 
ers. It would have been difficult to find a happier child than 
I was as I lay in my crib at the close of that eventful day and 
lived over the joys it had brought me, and for the first time 
longed for a new day to come. 

A LESSON IN TREE CLIMBING 

Helen Keller tells an interesting story of her first experi- 
ence in tree climbing. One day my teacher and I were re- 
turning from a long ramble. The morning had been fine, but 
it was growing warm and sultry when at last we turned our 
faces homeward. Two or three times we stopped to rest under 
a tree by the wayside. Our last halt was under a wild cherry 
tree a short distance from the house. The shade was grateful, 
and the tree was so easy to climb that with my teacher's as- 
sistance I was able to scramble to a seat in the branches. It 
was so cool up in the tree that Miss Sullivan proposed that we 
have our luncheon there. I promised to keep still while she 
went to the house to fetch it. 

Suddenly a change passed over the tree. All the sun's 
warmth left the air. I knew the sky was black, because all the 
heat, which meant light to me, had died out of the atmosphere. 
A strange odor came up from the earth. I knew it, it was the 
odor that always precedes a thunderstorm, and a nameless 
fear clutched at my heart. I felt absolutely alone, cut off from 
my friends and the firm earth. The immense, the unknown, 
enfolded me. I remained still and expectant; a chilling terror 



344 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

crept over me. I longed for my teacher's return ; but above all 
things I wanted to get down from that tree. 

There was a moment of sinister silence, then a multitudin- 
ous stirring of the leaves. A shiver ran through the tree, and 
the wind sent forth a blast that would have knocked me off 
had I not clung to the branch with might and main. The 
tree swayed and strained. The small twigs snapped and fell 
about me in showers. A wild impulse to jump seized me, but 
terror held me fast. I crouched down in the fork of the tree. 
The branches lashed about me. I felt the intermittent jarring 
that came now and then, as if something heavy had fallen and 
the shock had traveled up till it reached the limb I sat on. It 
worked my suspense up to the highest point, and just as I was 
thinking the tree and I should fall together, my teacher seized 
my hand and helped me down. I clung to her, trembling with 
joy to feel the earth under my feet once more. I had learned 
a new lesson — that nature "wages open war against her chil- 
dren, and under softest touch hides treacherous claws." 

After this experience it was a long time before I climbed 
another tree. The mere thought filled me with terror. It was 
the sweet allurement of the mimosa tree in full bloom that 
finally overcame my fears. One beautiful spring morning 
when I was alone in the summer-house, reading, I became 
aware of a wonderful subtle fragrance in the air. I started 
up and instinctively stretched out my hands. It seemed as if 
the spirit of spring had passed through the summer-house. 
"What is it?" I asked, and the next minute I recognized 
the odor of the mimosa blossoms. I felt my way to the end 
of the garden, knowing that the mimosa tree was near the 
fence, at the turn of the path. Yes, there it was, all quivering 
in the warm sunshine, its blossom-laden branches almost touch- 
ing the long grass. Was there ever anything so exquisitely 
beautiful in the world before! Its delicate blossoms shrank 
from the slightest earthly touch ; it seemed as if a tree of para- 



Hklen Kkller 345 

dise had been transplanted on earth. I made my way through a 
shower of petals to the great trunk and for one minute stood 
irresokite ; then, putting my foot in the broad space between 
the forked branches, I pulled myself up into the tree. I had 
some difficulty in holding on, for the branches were very large, 
and the bark hurt my hands. But I had a delicious sense that 
I was doing something unusual and wonderful, so I kept on 
climbing higher and higher, until I reached the little seat which 
somebody had built there so long ago that it had grown part 
of the tree itself. I sat there for a long, long time, feeling 
like a fairy on a rosy cloud. After that I spent many happy 
hours in my tree of Paradise, thinking fair thoughts and dream- 
ing bright dreams. 

THE DAWN OF LOVE 

]\Tiss Keller gives us this wonderfully interesting account of 
her first insight into the meaning of love: 

I remember the morning that I first asked the meaning of 
the word "love." This was before I knew many words. I had 
found a few early violets in the garden, and brought them to 
my teacher. She tried to kiss me ; but at that time, I did not 
like to have anyone kiss me except my mother. Miss Sullivan 
put her arm gently around me, and spelled into my hand, "I 
love Helen." 

"What is love?" I asked. 

She drew me closer to her and said, "It is here," pointing 
to my heart, whose beats I was conscious of for the first time. 
Her words puzzled me very much because I did not then un- 
derstand anything unless I touched it. 

I smelt the violets in her hand and asked, half in words, 
half in signs, a question which meant, "Is love the sweetness of 
flowers ?" 

"No," said my teacher. 

Again I thought. The warm sun was shining on us. 



346 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

"Is this not love?" I asked, pointing in the direction from 
which the heat came, "Is this not love?" 

It seemed to me that there could be nothing more beautiful 
than the sun, whose warmth makes all things grow. But Miss 
Sullivan shook her head, and I was greatly puzzled and disap- 
pointed. I thought it strange that my teacher could not show 
me love. 

A day or two afterward I was stringing beads of different 
sizes in symmetrical groups — two large beads, three small 
ones, and so on. I had made many mistakes, and Miss Sulli- 
van had pointed them out again and again with gentle patience. 
Finally I noticed a very obvious error in the sequence and for 
an instant I concentrated my attention on the lesson and tried 
to think how I should have arranged the beads. Miss Sullivan 
touched my forehead and spelled with decided emphasis, 
"think." 

In a flash I knew that the word was the name of the pro- 
cess that was going on in my head. This was my first con- 
scious perception of an abstract idea. 

For a long time I was still — I was not thinking of the 
beads in my lap, but trying to find a meaning for "love" in the 
light of this new idea. The sun had been under a cloud all day, 
and there had been brief showers; but suddenly the sun broke 
forth in all its southern splendor. 

Again I asked my teacher, "Is this not love ?" 

"Love is something like the clouds that were in the sky be- 
fore the sun came out," she replied. Then in simpler words than 
these, which at that time I could not have understood, she ex- 
plained : "You cannot touch the clouds, you know ; but you feel 
the rain and know how glad the flowers and the thirsty earth are 
to have it after a hot day. You cannot touch love either ; but 
you feel the sweetness that it pours into everything. Without 
love you would not be happy or want to play." 

The beautiful truth burst upon my mind — I felt that there 



HEI.KN Kkller 347 

were invisible lines stretched between my spirit and the spirits 
of others. 

THE JOY OF SPEECH 

There is something of almost infinite pathos and human 
charm about Miss Keller's story of her joy of first speak- 
ing to her loved ones at home after the art of speech had come 
to be her own : 

When I had made speech my own, I could not wait to go 
home. At last the happiest of happy moments arrived. I had 
made my homeward journey, talking constantly to Miss Sulli- 
van, not for the sake of talking, but determined to improve to 
the last minute. Almost before I knew it, the train stopped at 
the Tuscumbia station, and there on the platform stood the 
whole family. My eyes fill with tears now as I think how my 
mother pressed me close to her, speechless and trembling with 
delight, taking in every syllable that I spoke, while little Mil- 
dred seized my free hand and kissed it and danced, and my 
father expressed his pride and affection in a big silence. It 
was as if Isaiah's prophecy had been fulfilled in me, "The 
mountains and hills shall break forth before you into singing, 
and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands !" 

FRIENDSHIP WITH BISHOP BROOKS AND DR. HOLMES 

Among many reminiscences of friendship with distin- 
guished people which Miss Keller's Story of My Life abounds, 
those which tells of her relations with Bishop Phillips Brooks 
and Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes are particularly beautiful. 

I count it one of the sweetest privileges of my life to have 
known and conversed with many men of genius. Only those 
who knew Bishop Brooks can appreciate the joy his friendship 
was to those who possesed it. As a child I loved to sit on his 
knee and clasp his great hand with one of mine, while Miss 
Sullivan spelled into the other his beautiful words about God 



34^ Capital, Stories About Famous Americans 

and the spiritual world. I heard him with a child's wonder 
and delight. My spirit could not reach up to his, but he gave 
me a real sense of joy in life, and I never left him without 
carrying away a fine thought that grew in beauty and depth of 
meaning as I grew. Once, when I was puzzled to know why 
there were so many religions, he said : "There is one universal 
religion, Helen — the religion of love. Love your Heavenly 
Father with your whole heart and soul, love every child of 
God as much as you can, and remember that the possibilities 
of good are greater than the possibilities of evil ; and you 
have the key to Heaven." And his life was a happy illustra- 
tion of this great truth. In his noble soul love and widest 
knowledge were blended wnth faith that had become insight. 
He saw 

"God in all that liberates and lifts, 

In all that humbles, sweetens and consoles." 

Bishop Brooks taught me no special creed or dogma ; 
but he impressed upon my mind two great ideas — the father- 
hood of God and the brotherhood of man, and made me feel 
that these truths underlie all creeds and forms of worship. 
God is love, God is our Father, we are His children : therefore 
the darkest clouds will break, and though right be worsted, 
wrong shall not triumph. 

I am too happy in this world to think much about the 
future, except to remember that I have cherished friends await- 
ing me there in God's beautiful Somewhere. In spite of the 
lapse of years, they seem so close to me that I should not think 
it strange if at any moment they should clasp my hand and 
speak words of endearment as they used to before they went 
away. 

Since Bishop Brooks died I have read the Bible through; 
also some philosophical works on religion, among them Swe- 
denborg's Heaven and Hell and Drummond's Ascent of Man, 



Francis Scott Key 349 

and I have found no creed or system more soul-satisfying 
than Bishop Brooks' creed of love, I knew Mr. Henry Drum- 
mond, and the memory of his strong, warm hand-clasp is like 
a benediction. He was the most sympathetic of companions. 
He knew so much and was so genial that it was impossible to 
feel dull in his presence. 

I remember well the first time I saw Oliver Wendell 
Holmes. He had invited Miss Sullivan and me to call on him 
one Sunday afternoon. It was early in the spring, just after 
I had learned to speak. We were shown to his library where 
we found him seated in a big armchair by an open fire which 
crackled on the hearth, thinking, he said, of other days. 

"And listening to the murmur of the River Charles," I 
suggested. 

"Yes," he replied, "the Charles has many dear associations 
for me." There was an odor of print and leather in the room 
which told me that it was full of books, and I stretched out 
my hand instinctively to find them. My fingers lighted on a 
beautiful volume of Tennyson's poems, and when Miss Sullivan 
told me what it was I began to recite : 

"Break, break, break 

On thy cold gray stones, O sea!" 

But I stopped suddenly. I felt tears on my hand. I had made 
my beloved poet weep, and I was greatly distressed. 

FRANCIS SCOTT KEY 

THE STORY OF THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 

THE following story of the creation of the most popular 
of all American anthems, is taken from The Immortal 
Songs of Camp and Field, written by the editor of this volume : 
"No song could have had a more inspiring source of crea- 
tion than did this. Its author, Mr. Francis Scott Key, was a 



350 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

young lawyer who left Baltimore in September, 1814, while 
the war of 1812 was yet going on, and under a flag of truce 
visited the British fleet for the purpose of obtaining the release 
of a friend of his, a certain Doctor Beanes, who had been cap- 
tured at Marlborough. After his arrival at the fleet he was 
compelled to remain with it during the bombardment of Fort 
AIcHenry, as the officers were afraid to permit him to land lest 
he should disclose the purposes of the British. Mr. Key re- 
mained on deck all night, watching every shell from the 
moment it was fired until it fell, and listening vv'ith breathless 
interest to hear if an explosion followed. The firing suddenly 
ceased before day, but from the position of the ship he could 
not discover whether the fort had surrendered or the attack 
had been abandoned. He paced the deck for the remainder of 
the night in painful suspense, watching with intense anxiety 
for the return of day, and looking every few minutes at 
his watch to see how long he must wait for it ; and as soon as 
it dawned, and before it was light enough to see objects at a 
distance, his glass was turned to the fort, uncertain whether 
he should see there the Stars and Stripes or the flag of the 
enemy. At length the light came, and he saw that "our flag 
was still there;" and as the day advanced he discovered from 
the movement of the boats between the shore and the fleet that 
the English troops had been defeated, and that many wounded 
men were being carried to the ships. At length Mr. Key was 
informed that the attack on Baltimore had failed, and he with 
his friend was permitted to return home, while the hostile fleet 
sailed away, leaving the Star-Spangled Banner still waving 
from Fort McHenry. 

During the intense anxiety of waiting for dawn, Mr. Key 
had conceived the idea of the song and had written some lines, 
or brief notes that would aid him in calling them to mind, 
upon the back of a letter which he happened to have in his 
pocket. He finished the poem in the boat on his way to the 



Francis Scott Key 351 

shore, and finally corrected it, leaving it as it now stands, at the 
hotel, on the night he reached Baltimore, and immediately 
after he arrived. The next morning he took it to Judge Nichol- 
son, the Chief Justice of Maryland, to ask him what he thought 
of it ; and he was so pleased with it that he immediately sent 
it to the printer, Benjamin Edes, and directed copies to be 
struck off in handbill form. In less than an hour after it was 
placed in the hands of the printer it was all over the town, and 
hailed with enthusiasm, and at once took its place in the 
national songs. The first newspaper that printed it was the 
American, of Baltimore. 

The tune, which has helped so much to make it famous, 
also had an interesting selection. Two brothers, Charles and 
Ferdinand Durang, were actors at the Holliday Street Theatre 
in Baltimore, but were also soldiers. A copy of Francis Key's 
poem came to them in camp ; it was read aloud to a company of 
the soldiers, among whom were the Durang brothers. All 
were inspired by the pathetic eloquence of the song and Ferdi- 
nand Durang at once put his wits to work to find a tune for 
it. Hunting up a volume of flute music which was in one of 
the tents, he impatiently whistled snatches of tune after tune, 
just as they caught his quick eye. One, called Anacreon in 
Heaven, struck his fancy and riveted his attention. Note after 
note fell from his puckered lips until, with a leap and shout, 
he exclaimed, "Boys, I've hit it !" And fitting the tune to the 
words, there rang out for the first time the song of The Star- 
Spangled Banner. How the men shouted and clapped; for 
there never was a wedding of poetry to music made under 
more inspiring influences! Getting a brief furlough, the 
Durang brothers sang it in public soon after. It was caught 
up in the camps, and sung around the bivouac fires, and 
whistled in the streets, and when peace was declared, and the 
the soldiers went back to their homes, they carried this song 
in their hearts as the most precious souvenir of the war of 1812. 



352 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

The song bears evidence of the special incident to which 
it owes its creation, and is not suited to all times and occasions 
on that account. To supply this want, additional stanzas have, 
from time to time, been written. Perhaps the most notable of 
all these is the following stanza, which was written by Oliver 
Wendell Holmes, at the request of a lady, during our Civil 
War, there being no verse alluding to treasonable attempts 
against the flag. It was originally printed in the Boston 
Evening Transcript : 

"When our land is illumined with liberty's smile, 
If a foe from within strike a blow at her glory, 
Down, down with the traitor who dares to defile 
The flag of her stars and the page of her story ! 

By the millions vmchained 

Who their birthright have gained 
We will keep her bright blazon forever unstained; 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave 
While the land of the free is the home of the brave." 

The air selected under such interesting circumstances as 
we have described — Anacrcon in Heaven, — is that of an old 
English song. In the second half of the eighteenth century 
a jovial society, called the "Anacrenotic," held its festive and 
musical meetings at the "Crown and Anchor" in the Strand. 
It is now the " Whittington Club ;" but in the last century it was 
frequented by Doctor Johnson, Boswell, Sir Joshua Reynolds 
and others. One Ralph Tomlinson, Esq., was at that time 
president of the Anacreontic Society, and wrote the words of 
the song adopted by the club, and John Stafford Smith set 
them to music, it is claimed to an old French air. The song 
was published by the composer, and was sold at his house, 7 
Warwick Street, Spring Garden, London, between the years 
1770-75. Thus the source of the music so long identified with 



Francis Scott Key 353 

this inspiring song is swallowed up in the mystery of the name 
of Smith. 

The flag of Fort McHenry, which inspired the song, still 
exists in a fair state of preservation. It is at this time thirty- 
two feet long and of twenty-nine feet hoist. In its original 
dimensions it was probably forty feet long; the shells of the 
enemy, and the work of curiosity hunters, have combined to 
decrease its length. Its great width is due to its having fifteen 
instead of thirteen stripes, each nearly two feet wide. It has, or 
rather had, fifteen five-pointed stars, each two feet from point 
to point, and arranged in five indented parallel lines, three stars 
in each horizontal line. The Union rests in the ninth, which 
is a red stripe, instead of the eighth, a white stripe, as in our 
present flag. There can be no doubt as to the authenticity of 
this flag. It was preserved by Colonel Armstead, and bears 
upon its stripes, in his autograph, his name and the date of the 
bombardment. It has always remained in his family and in 
1861 his widow bequeathed it to their youngest daughter, Mrs. 
William Stuart Appleton, who, some time after the bombard- 
ment, was born in Fort McHenry under its folds. She died in 
New York, July 25, 1878, and bequeathed the flag to her son, 
Mr. Eben Appleton, of Yonkers, New York, who now holds it. 

The Star-Spangled Banner has come out of the Spanish 
War baptized with imperishable glory. Throughout the war 
it has been above all others, in camp or on the battlefield, the 
song that has aroused the highest enthusiasm. During the 
bombardment of Manila the band on a British cruiser, lying 
near the American fleet, played The Star-Spangled Banner, 
thus showing in an unmistakable way their sympathy with the 
American cause. In the trenches before Santiago it was sung 
again and again by our soldiers and helped, more than any- 
thing else, to inspire them to deeds of heroic valor. Once 
when the army moved forward in the charge, the man who 
played the E-flat horn in the band left his place and rushed 



354 CAriTAL Stories About Famous Americans 

forward with the soldiers in the attacking cokimn. Of course 
the band's place is in the rear. But this man, unmindful of 
everything, broke away and went far up the hill with the 
charge, carrying his horn over his shoulder, slung with a strap. 
For a time he went along unobserved, until one of the officers 
happened to see him. And he said to him, "What are you doing 
here? You can't do anything; you can't fight; you havn't any 
gun or sword. This is no place for you. Get down behind that 
rock." The soldier fell back for a minute, half dazed, and 
feeling the pull of the strap on his shoulder cried out in agony : 
"I can't do anything, I can't fight." And so he got down be- 
hind the rock. But instantly he raised his horn and began to 
play The Star-Spangled Banner. They heard him down in the 
valley, and immediately the band took it up, and in the midst 
of those inspiring strains the army charged to victory. 

The Star-Spangled Banner complete, as originally written 
by Francis Scott Key is as follows : 

"O say, can you see by the dawn's early light, 
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight. 
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming ! 

And the rocket's red glare, 

The bombs bursting in air. 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there ; 
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? 

On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, 
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep. 
As it fitfully blows now conceals, now discloses ? 

Now it catches the gleam 

Of the morning's first beam, 



Philandkr C. Knox 355 

In full glory reflected now shines on the stream ; 
'Tis the star-spangled banner ! Oh, long may it wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! 

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore 

That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion 

A home and a country should leave us no more? 

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. 

No refuge could save 

The hireling and slave 
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave; 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! 

Oh, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand 
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation ! 
Blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land 
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation 

Then conquer we must 

When our cause it is just, 
And this be our motto — *In God is our trust :' 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!" 

PHILANDER C. KNOX 

THE TRUST THAT WAS TOO MUCH FOR HIM 
'pHILANDER C. KNOX, former Attorney-General of the 
^ United States, is an enthusiastic angler. Recently he 
•took a trip to a mountainous region of Pennsylvania. One 
of his guides was an old mountaineer named Jacob Krebbe, 
and well known to the Attorney-General. Krebbe Is quite an 
adroit conversationalist, and is not unknown to the fishermen 
in his section as a humorist. 



356 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

One hot afternoon, Jacob Krebbe and Mr. Knox chanced 
by a big pool where the trout were rising freely and snapping 
at a greenish-blue fly on the surface of the water. Mr. Knox 
had nothing in his fly-book that resembled the insect in question, 
and, after a series of ineffectual casts, gave up in disgust. 

"Seems as if that green and blue fly had a sort of a trust 
on that pool of trout," said the patient guide. 

Mr. Knox nodded. 

"Well,'" resumed Krebbe, "if you can't bust a trust I don't 
know who can. Let's be gettin'." 

A VIVID CONTRAST 

When ]\Ir. Knox, now Senator from Pennsylvania, went to 
Washington to take up the portfolio of the Attorney-General, 
he received a bit of good-natured chaff from his colleagues m 
the Cabinet by reason of his diminutive stature. 

One day Knox was telling Shaw, Secretary of the Treas- 
ury, of a sight-seeing trip he had made. "Do you know," said 
he, "that until this present trip to the Capital, I never had 
visited the Washington Monument? Well, I slipped down to- 
day and had a look at it. Besides that, I had my photo taken 
while I was standing at the base of the shaft." 

"How did the monument stand the contrast?" queried Shaw. 

"Really, it didn't present so insignificant an appearance as 
you might imagine," responded the Attorney-General. 

THOMAS W. LAWSON 

ENCOUNTER WITH A WIND CLOCK 

'T^HOMAS W. LAWSON, himself an adept in unconven- 
-^ tional tactics, recently received a shock at his own 
speciality. He was driving a spirited horse to a light vehicle. 
Having occasion to leave it in order to enter an office building, 
he called to a street urchin : 




NELSON A. MILES WINFIELD SCOTT SCHLEY 

OLIVER O. HOWARD 
ROBLEY D. EVANS FITZHUGH LEE 



FiTzHUGH Lee) 359 

"Sonny, hold my horse?" 

"Cert.," was the pert reply; "what do I git?" 

"A dollar an hour," said Mr. Lawson, laughing. 

"By that clock?" continued the lad, pointing to a street 
clock m front of a jeweler's. 

"Yes," said the financier, much amused. 

"All right," assented the boy, with a sudden alacrity in con- 
trast with his previous hesitation. 

Mr. Lawson performed his errand and emerged again. 

"How much do I owe you ?" he asked the boy. 

"Two hundred and seven dollars." 

"What?" 

"By the clock, mister." 

Mr. Lawson glanced at the clock, — an advertisement. It 
contained no works, but was operated by currents of air, and 
the hands were revolving with the rapidity of a pin wheel. 

"I thought Wall Streeters could do more business on wind 
than anybody," gasped Mr. Lawson, "but this takes my time !" 

FITZHUGH LEE 

A SAD MISTAKE 

OHORTLY after the expiration of his term as Governor of 
^^ Virginia, General Fitzhugh Lee decided to rest for a few 
weeks, and selected Palm Beach, P'lorida, as the place, ex- 
President Cleveland having also selected that place for a few 
weeks' sojourn. General Lee's emoluments as Governor had 
not been very large, and he was not seeking an expensive 
hostlery. 

"Imagine my surprise and chagrin," he said, "on arriv- 
ing late one evening at Palm Beach, and, after registering at 
the hotel, being escorted with great attention to a suite with 
this notice on the door : 'The price of these rooms is one hun- 
dred dollars per day.' 



360 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"It was too late for me to attempt to make any change, 
besides I was given to understand that the rooms were 
especially prepared for the ex-Governor of Virginia. One 
hundred dollars a day ! Half that night I tumbled and tossed, 
thinking about the price of those rooms and wondering where 
I was going to get the money. I finally concluded that the only 
thing left for me to do was to quit that hotel without loss 
of time, as it would certainly be beneath the dignity of an ex- 
Governor of Virginia to ask for anything cheaper than the 
room especially assigned to him. Accordingly I arose at an 
early hour, packed my trunk and proceeded to the office. I 
informed the clerk that I had changed my programme, and 
was obliged to leave on the next train and that I wished my 
bill at once. 

" 'Why, Governor !' exclaimed the clerk, 'your sudden de- 
parture will prove a great disappointment, as we expected you 
would remain several weeks.' 

" 'I am sorry, too,' I said, 'but I must leave on that ten 
o'clock train.' Indeed, I was sorry to leave, but there was that 
hundred dollars a day, which I knew I could not pay. 

"The clerk, however, made no move, and I reiterated my 
request for my bill, 

"'That's all right,' replied the clerk. 'Mr. Flagler left 
orders, as soon as we heard that you were coming, that there 
was to be no charge as long as you remained, whether one day 
or six weeks. We are only sorry that you can't remain !' " 

ROBERT E. LEE 

DUTY RATHER THAN WEALTH 

XT ON. H. W. HILLIARD, ex-member of the Federal Con- 
gress, made a speech in Augusta, Georgia, at the meet- 
ing there held to do honor to the memory of General Lee, in 
which he said : 



Robert E. Lee 361 

"An offer, originating in Georgia, and I believe in this very- 
city, was made to him to place an immense sum of money at 
his disposal if he would consent to reside in the city of New 
York and represent Southern commerce. Millions would have 
flowed to him. But he declined. He said : 'No ; I am grateful, 
but I have a self-imposed task, which I must accomplish. I 
have led the young men of the South in battle; I have seen 
many of them fall under my standard. I shall devote my life 
now to training young men to do their duty in life.' " 

LEE'S BOTTLE OF WHISKEY 

He was exceedingly abstemious in his own habits. He 
never used tobacco, and rarely took even a single glass of 
wine. Whiskey or brandy he did not drink, and he did all in 
his power to discourage their use by others. 

In the spring of 1861, while on an inspection tour to Nor- 
folk, a friend there insisted that he should take two bottles 
of very fine old "London Dock" brandy, remarking that he 
would be certain to need it, and would find it very difficult 
to obtain so good an article. General Lee declined the offer, 
saying that he was sure he would not need it. "As proof 
that I will not," he said, "I may tell you that, just as I was 
starting to the Mexican War, a lady in Virginia prevailed 
on me to take a bottle of fine old whiskey, which she thought 
I could not get on without. I carried the bottle all through 
the war without having had the slightest occasion to use it, and 
on m}' return home I sent it back to my good friend, that she 
might be convinced that I could get on without liquor." 

But the gentleman still insisted, and the General politely 
yielded and took the two bottles. 

At the close of the war he met a brother of this gentle- 
man (from whom I get the incident) in Lexington, and said 
to him : "Tell your brother that I kept the brandy he gave me 
all through the war, and should have it yet, but that I was 



362 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

obliged to use it last summer in a severe illness of one of my 
daughters." 

GENERAL LEE'S TREAT 

Upon another occasion General Lee proposed to "treat" 
some of his officers, remarking, "I have just received a demi- 
john which I know is of the best." The demijohn, tightly 
corked, was produced, drinking-vessels were brought out, and 
all gathered around in eager expectancy, when the General 
filled the glasses and cups to the brim — not with old "Cognac" 
or "Bourbon" — but with fresh buttermilk, which a kind lady, 
knowing his taste, had sent him. He seemed to enjoy greatly 
the evident disappointment of some of the company when they 
ascertained the true character of their "treat." 

A SHREWD REBUKE 

One day, at Petersburg, General Lee, who never suffered 
a day to pass without visiting some part of his lines, rode by 
the quarters of one of his Major-Generals, and requested him 

to ride with him. As they were going he asked General 

if a certain work which he had ordered to be pushed was 
completed. He replied with some hesitation that it was, and 
General Lee then proposed that they go and see it. Arriving 
at the spot it was found that little or no progress had been 

made since they were there a week before, and General 

was profuse in his apologies, saying that he had not seen the 
work since they were there together, but that he had ordered 

it to be completed at once, and that Major had informed 

him that it had been already finished. General Lee said noth- 
ing then, except to remark, quietly, "We must give our per- 
sonal attention to the lines." But, riding on a little farther, 

he began to compliment General on the splendid charger 

he rode. "Yes, sir," said General , "he is a splendid 

animal, and I prize him the more highly because he belongs 



Abraham Lincoln 363 

to my wife, and is her favorite riding-horse." "A magnificent 
horse," rejoined General Lee, "but I should not think him safe 

for Mrs. to ride. He is entirely too spirited for a lady, 

and I would urge you by all means to take some of the mettle 

out of him before you suffer Mrs. to ride him again. 

And, by-the-way, General, I would suggest to you that these 
rough paths along these trenches zvould be very admirable^ 
ground over zvhich to tame him." The face of the gallant sol- 
dier turned crimson ; he felt most keenly the rebuke, and never 
afterward reported the condition of his lines upon information 

received from Major , or any one else. His spirited 

charger felt the effect of this hint from headquarters. 

ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

A ROMANCE OF THE CIVIL WAR 

■pUFUS ROCKWELL WILSON retold, a few years ago, 
-■-^ in Success, this very remarkable story in which Abra- 
ham Lincoln, Jefferson Davis, and a devoted slave, are the 
dramatic factors : 

"When, in 1835, Jefferson Davis, later President of the 
Confederacy, left the regular army, his elder brother, Joseph, 
gave him Brierfield, a splendid plantation of two thousand 
acres on the Mississippi River, a few miles below Vicksburg, 
and a number of slaves. This latter included a growing negro 
boy called Ben Montgomery, whom Mr. Davis made his body 
servant. The lad was unusually intelligent, and Mr. Davis 
saw that in him were capabilities not common to the African 
race. He taught him to read, and then to write, and soon he 
became an admirable assistant. He was not only Jefferson 
Davis' body servant, but also his private secretary, book- 
keeper, and general factotum. His penmanship was beautiful, 
and his plantation bookkeeping, in its simplicity and accuracy, 
was the envy and admiration of the countryside. He knew 



364 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

more of the business of the Davis brothers, except themselves, 
than anyone else. 

"After Jefferson Davis entered politics, Ben Montgomery 
became still more useful. When the master was on his long 
campaign tours, or in Washington, Montgomery had authority 
to open letters not marked as private, and to answer them; 
he had power, in writing answers, to transact any business 
necessary for the plantation. By this time Montgomery had 
come to have absolute charge of the Brierfield estate. He did 
not interfere with the management of the negroes, or with 
anything else under the overseer's purview ; but the general 
business of the place he transacted without consulting anybody 
except the master. 

"When Jefferson Davis left Washington, in 1861, after re- 
signing his seat in the Senate, he went to Brierfield. His estate 
was his sole maintenance. It was certain that, during the im- 
pending struggle, he must be absent much of the time, and 
whom should he leave in charge of the estate ? Finally Joseph 
Davis asked, 'Why not Ben Montgomery ?' and the suggestion 
was adopted. The usual white overseers were left in charge 
of the farming operations, but to the slave, Ben Montgomery, 
was intrusted the financial part of the business, under the 
direction of his master. The cotton crops of 1861 and 1862 
were good, and, although there was some trouble about mar- 
keting the crop of the latter year, it was finally sent to New 
Orleans, and, later, warehoused in Liverpool, to be sold when 
the money it might bring would be needed. There were not 
more than four hundred and fifty bales, for the South then 
needed corn and food supplies more than it did cotton, and so 
the land was devoted largely to food crops. Then, early in 
1863, came the Emancipation Proclamation of President Lin- 
coln, and with it, to the South, the equally dangerous Act of 
Confiscation. This latter was put into execution, wherever pos- 
sible, with great energy. Treasury agents, armed with all the 



Abraham Lincoln 365 

forms of law, or without them sometimes, seized all property 
belonging to the list of suspects as soon as it came under the 
protection of the Union armies. 

"Then, for the first time in his life, Ben Montgomery asked 
permisison to visit Richmond. 

" 'Dear Marse Jeff," he wrote, 'I want to go to Richmond 
to see you, and I want to go right away. There is something 
that I want to tell you that I dare not write, so do please let 
me go to Richmond at once.' 

"Mr. Davis could not imagine what the negro had on his 
mind, but wrote him to come, and sent him the necessary per- 
mit for a slave to travel. 

" 'Mars Jeff,' said Ben, when he arrived at Richmond and 
had an opportunity to talk with his master, 'you know Mr. 
Lincoln has issued what he calls an emancipation proclamation, 
and with it another proclamation confiscating the property of 
certain archrebels, as he calls them. Now, they are going to 
confiscate your property just as soon as they get a chance. 
Suppose you and Master Joe sell me your estates, and do it 
before the Yankees capture our country.' 

" 'Why, Ben,' Mr. Davis said, 'you are a slave and can't 
hold property in Mississippi.' 

" 'That's true,' said Ben, 'but you can set me free. Make 
out two sets of free papers. Give me one set and keep one 
yourself. Then make out a third paper, which shall say that 
under certain conditions the free papers are to be canceled.' 

"The conditions were that the Federals should capture the 
city of Vicksburg and the Davis estate which lay eighteen 
miles below. 

" 'Why, Ben, that's an excellent idea. Let me think it over 
for a day or two,' Mr. Davis said. 

"He talked it over with his brother Joseph. It was impor- 
tant to them that they should have the income of this estate. 
If the Federal soldiers should capture Vicksburg, about the 



366 Capitai, Stories About P'amous Americans 

first property they would confiscate and plunder would be the 
Davis estate. But, if this property belonged to a negro, freed 
before the capture of Vicksburg, then, under the Emancipation 
Proclamation, it would be his, and could not be seized by the 
Federal agents. The plan promised well, and the Davis broth- 
ers, after consultation, decided to adopt it. Jefferson Davis 
loaned to Ben, for the purpose of making the sale, ten thousand 
dollars. The consideration for the estate was thirty thousand 
dollars, on ten years' time, Mnth interest at six per cent. Know- 
ing there would be some trouble about the matter, the legal 
papers were drawn with exceptional care. John A. Campbell, 
who resigned his place on the United States supreme bench 
when the war began, was the attorney; at the same time he 
drew Ben's free papers, with a clause in each that, under cer- 
tain conditions, the free papers should become null and void. 

"Returning to Brierfield, Montgomery had all the papers 
promptly recorded in the proper offices in Warren County, 
Mississippi. Events speedily showed that he acted wisely, for 
in less than a week after Vicksburg fell, in July, 1863, an agent 
of the United States treasury department appeared at Brier- 
field to take possession of the goods, chatties, and movables on 
the plantation, preparatory to formal confiscation of the pro- 
perty by the United States. The agent traveled in state, 
escorted by a troop of cavalry, only to be met by Montgomery, 
who mildly asked his business. 

" 'I have come,' said the agent, 'to take possession of all 
movable goods and stores on Jefferson Davis' plantation.' 

" 'Mr. Davis owns no plantation in this section of the 
countr)%' Montgomery rejoined. 

" 'Then to whom does this place belong?' queried the aston- 
ished officer. 

" 'These three plantations,' answered Montgomery, calmly, 
'consisting of the Hurricane, Palmyra and Brierfield estates, 
are my property.' 



Abraham LincoIvN 367 

" 'You don't suppose that I'll believe such a story as that, 
do you ?' asked the agent. 

" 'The story that I have told you is true in every respect,' 
said Montgomery. 'If you will come into the house, I will 
show you all the papers, and you can decide upon their 
legality.' 

" 'The agent was a lawyer, and, when he looked over the 
deeds, he saw that a correct legal transfer had been made. 
But he said, in triumph : 

" 'At the time this sale was made, you were a slave. You 
could not hold real estate in IMississippi.' 

"Thereupon Montgomery, with a smile, handed the agent 
his free papers, made out and legally verified four days before 
the title to the real estate was passed. 

" 'Now,' said Montgomery, 'this country is under the pro- 
tection of the United States, is it not ?' 

" 'Why, yes,' said the officer, 'it is.' 

" 'And I am entitled to all the rights and privileges of a 
citizen of the United States, am I not ?' 

" 'I suppose you are,' was the reluctant reply. 

" 'Then, sir, under the Emancipation Proclamation of Presi- 
dent Lincoln, and by virtue of these free papers made before 
that proclamation was issued, I am a citizen of the United 
States, with all the rights and privileges that any citizen has. 
You are especilly enjoined by that proclamation to see that I 
and all of mv race are protected in our legal rights, are you 
not ?' 

" 'Yes,' replied the officer, who saw that he was cornered. 

" 'Then I request that you leave my property untouched, 
for otherwise I shall call upon the President of the United 
States to know whether or not this proclamation is more than 
an empty form.' 

"The agent and his escort went back to Vicksburg. ]\Tont- 
gomery at once addressed a letter to the commanding officer 



3^.S Cai'itai, vS'i"(>ini;s Ac.ouT I'amous Ami'.imcans 

al Viclsshiiif;', sclliii}; foilli thai lie was a free man of color, 
llic lethal owner o| (•< rtain planlalioiis, wliicli were sixcilicd hy 
name; that an ollircr of llic I 'nilcd Stales had called ii|)()n him 
.and had end('avf)rcd lo dcinive him of his properly without due 
process of law, and he demandeil of Ihc commandinj^ ofCicer 
his J)rolccli()n antl llial of llx' I Inilcd Stales. Still, ihe spoil 
was too I ich to he reiinipiished hv the Ireasnrv ai;('nts vvilhoiil 
a lifj^hl, and, in despair. MontjJi'oiiK'ry decided upon a j^rcat 
stroke, lie tailed npoii the I''edcral commander at Vickshurjj^ 
and asked th.it .1 l.ienlen.int an<l ^nard he pnl in charj^e at 
I'ricrfielil lor ten <l;iys' lime, and also for leave to travel on a 
(iovennnenl hoal hotnid 1(» Cincinnati. lie h.id resolved lo 
visil Washinqlon, see President i,incoln, aixl lav ihi- case he- 
fore him person.dh'. lie chanced to know judi^c Molt, then 
Jnd,i;e Advocate of the arnu'. When he arrived in Washinj^ton, 
lie al once went to see him, and asked to he taken to the 
ricsidenl. 

'I'm a free m.ni, now, jndL^i',' he said. '^^)n have known 
me for m;m\' \c.ns. I want \()n lo t:d<e me lo Mr. Lincoln 
and tell him whal mv chaiacter is, for I have important husi- 
ness with him.' 

"jndtM' I loll went with Monli-^omerv lo Mr. Lincoln. 

"'Mr. rr<'sidenl,' he said, 'this is I'.cn Monli-omeiv, who, 
for ihirh' yeais, has heeii the private seci'elarv of ji'lTerson 
J)avis. 

"'Private sccretai\ ?' (pieiied Mr. Lincoln. 

" '^'es,' said JikIl^c Holt, 'thai is what 1 said. TTe is an 
honest man, and whal lie says is Irne. Me wishes to see yon 
on important husiness. ;md I will leave yon and him lo trans- 
act it,'- and judqe Molt left Ihem alone. 

"Well, what can 1 do for yon, my friend?' asked Mr. Lin- 
coln, .iftei- the Indi'.e had 'Mine. 

" 'Monlf^onu-rv related what had occnrn-d. 'l\tr. Davis 
has heen very kind to me,' lie wenl on, 'and I did Ihis as mnch 



AnUAIIAM IjNC()l<N ^f)() 

lo Iiclp Iiini ;is lo liclp myself. This war is nearly over. ] ho- 
lic'vc Ui.'il your iH-opIc will sticceal. What you will do willi 
Master jvl'f, 1 do not know; but 1 am }j;oiiii^ to do my best lo 
kvv]) his wife and ehiidit ii from starving;.' 

"IVlr. J,iucolii was dee|)ly moved. 'Do you mean to toll 
me,' he asked, 'thai you have l)een Mr. Davis' i)rivato sccrc- 
lai \ all IIksc years ?' 

"'I do not know what you would eall it, Mr. President,' 
the ne,L;ro replied, 'but for thirty years 1 have Wrilti-n his busi- 
ness lellers, looked afler llie affairs of die plaiilalion, earrii-d 
lar.L;e sums of money to New ( )rleans and to Cincinnati for 
him, and have had his fidlesl conlidenee in every way. in all 
his life Ik- has never spoken lo ine an unkind word.' 

"'Do you know of any other such case as yours, Mont- 
gomery?' asked Ihe TresidenI, as he rose and paced the floor. 

"'No, sir, I do nol,' was Ihe lepls' ; 'bnl, donblless, iberc- 
are such cases. Now, Mr. rresidenl, what I want you to do 
is this: 1 w.'Uit you to j^ive me a writing' directin);" all military 
and civil oflicers to protect me in the possession of my 
properly.' 

"'Pile rresidenl sal al his desk, and then and there wrote 
an order which enjoiiietl upon all mililary, naval, and civil 
oHiers the proleclion of I'enjamin Monl^^omery, the owni'r of 
three planlalions thai were named, and directed that he be 
i^iven any assistance he mit^ht rccpnre in fmlherance of these 
orders, it was si<;ne(l, 'Abraham Lincoln.' This was about 
Auj^iisl I, 1^63. 

"Monlj^omery weni lioitH- and al once slu)wed liis letlcr to 
the comiuander al Vicksbiug, who issued orders that he shoidd 
be prolecled in the possession of his property. The IVesident 
directed Ihe Secretary of ihe Treasurv lo inslrncl his agents to 
lei Monlj^omery alone, and be was not disturbed. After the 
war, he went (|nielly ahead with bis business. He saved some 
money, and kept Ibe bands prelly well togelber, tbon-di Ibey 



370 CAriTAiv STORiiis About Famous Americans 

were few. During the years of reconstruction, Montgomery- 
went on with his cotton-growing, and attended closely to bus- 
iness. His credit in Vicksburg and New Orleans was equal 
to that of any planter in the country; his orders for supplies 
were promptly filled, and his payments were made at the prom- 
ised time. 

"In 1882, Montgomery felt that he was getting too old to 
manage properly the business of the estates. So a friendly 
suit of foreclosure was brought, and the great estate, Joseph 
Davis having been dead some years, reverted to Jefferson 
Davis. He and Montgomery, settled their accounts, and Mont- 
gomery, after that settlement, which assured him some two 
hundred thousand dollars, was the richest colored man in Mis- 
sissippi. Two years thereafter he died, and no man, white or 
black, could have been more sincerely mourned. Montgom- 
ery's funeral was attended by Mr. Davis and by all the promi- 
nent planters within twenty or thirty miles. In an address 
at the grave, Mr. Davis said : "I have had in my life many 
true and faithful friends, but none more faithful than was he 
whom this day Ave have laid at rest." 

LINCOLN SECURING A PENSION 

"The President was an early riser, his sleep being light and 
capricious. He was often at his desk at six o'clock in the 
morning, and, during his first days in the White House, he 
found delight in sunrise visits to the camps and hospitals in 
and around the city. He was generally unattended in these 
rambles, probably from choice, as he was thus enabled to 
mingle freely with the soldiers, and to make himself familiar 
with their needs and condition. Now and again, in those first 
days, he would find time for an unannounced visit to one of 
the departments, in the discharge of some helpful task which 
he did not elect to entrust to others. It was an errand of this 
sort which, one hot afternoon in the early summer of 1861, 



Abraham Lincoln 371 

caused his unexpected appearance at the headquarters of Gen- 
eral Winfield Scott. He looked the picture of weariness and 
disgust, and, without waiting for the General to welcome him, 
he sank heavily into the first chair to which he came. 

" 'Keep your seat, General,' said the President, as, with a 
huge bandanna, he wiped the dust and moisture from his face. 

" 'Pardon me, Mr. President,' General Scott broke in, — 
'but it is rather an uncommon thing for the President of the 
United States to become a solicitor of pensions. When you 
have any business of that kind demanding attention, send it 
to me, and my secretary here will attend to it, without delay." 

The Secretary in question was Colonel, afterwards Major 
General, Schuyler Hamilton, and it is he who tells the story. 

" 'I am sure the claim is a just one,' the President contin- 
ued, unmindful of the General's interruption, 'for I have gone 
over the papers in the case with care.' Here he drew a bulky 
package from one of his pockets. "The applicant is the widow 
of a Corporal who was killed by the Indians. She should have 
had her money long ago, but nobody seems to have taken any 
interest in the case. She has been haunting the White House 
almost daily for weeks. I am resolved to wind the matter up 
one way or another to-day. I have promised the poor woman 
an answer at four o'clock, and she is waiting for me over at 
the White House. How long do you think it would take you. 
Colonel,' — addressing Hamilton, — 'to get this case through 
the pension office?' 

" 'It should be done in half an hour.' replied Hamilton, as 
he glanced over the papers to see if they were in proper form. 

" 'Go ahead, my son,' said the President, 'and I will wait 
for you here.' 

Five minutes later Hamilton was addressing the Commis- 
sioner of Pensions. 

" 'Did you see a tall, dark-complexioned man here to-day?' 
he asked. 'He wore a linen duster and a slouch hat, and was 



372 CAriTAiv Stories About Famous Americans 

interested in the pension of a woman whose husband was 
killed in the Seminole War.' 

" 'Oh, yes, I remember the man,' was the reply, 'He said 
he was a lawyer, from somewhere out West.' 

" 'Well,' said Hamilton, 'you have got yourself into a pretty 
fix. That man is President Lincoln, and I have just promised 
him I would bring him an answer inside of half an hour.' 

This brief announcement wrought an instant change in the 
pension office. Bells were rung and heads of divisions sent for, 
while clerks and messengers ran here and there at the seeming 
peril of life and limb. Before the expiration of the promised 
half-hour, Hamilton placed the final papers, duly signed and 
executed, in the hands of the President. He looked them over 
carefully, to make sure that they were right, and then, with a 
quizzical smile, asked : 

" 'Can you tell me, Colonel, how it is that I was so long 
and failed, and you were so short and succeeded?" 

" 'To speak frankly, Mr. President,' said Hamilton, 'I re- 
gret to say you are not known by sight in the pension office.' " 

ONE OF LINCOLN'S PARDONS 

Mr. F. R. Guernsey tells this story of one of Lincoln's 
pardons : 

"Executive Mansion, 
Washington, D. C, 
December 17, 1863. 
Major-General Hurlbut, Memphis, Tenn. 

Dear Sir: — I undestand that you have, under 
sentence of death, a tall old man by the name of 
Henry F". Luckett. I, personally, knew him, and did 
not think him a bad man. Please do not let him be 
executed, unless upon further order from me ; and, in 
the meantime, send me a transcript of the record. 

A. Lincoln. 



Abraham Lincoln 373 

"This telegram, now on file in the War Department at 
Washington, was Abraham Lincoln's response to an appeal 
made in behalf of a man under sentence of death with whom 
he had formerly been acquainted. Behind it lies a strange 
and unusual story, which shows how Mr. Lincoln's great heart 
went out spontaneously to all in distress. 

"Daniel W. Voorhees, during the Civil War, represented 
an Indiana district in Congress. Late on a December after- 
noon, in 1863, a page brought to Mr. Voorhees, in his seat in 
the House, the card of one of his constituents, Bullitt by name. 
Going to the door, he was greeted by Bullitt and the latter's 
wife. Both bore the marks of travel, and appeared to be in 
deep distress. Mr. Voorhees conducted them to a committee 
room, and the husband hastened to disclose the reason for 
their presence at the capitol. The wife's father was Rev. 
Henry F. Luckett, an aged Methodist minister, who at differ- 
ent times had held charges in most of the States of the Mid- 
dle West. His small savings were so invested that the opening 
of the war had swept them away, and left him practically 
penniless. The old man's losses had weighed heavily upon 
him, and had produced in his mind a settled belief that he was 
to become a pauper and public charge. 

"His family, hoping that he would benefit by a change of 
scene, finally induced him to visit a niece who lived in Mem- 
phis. There his bitter and constant lamentations over his 
losses attracted the attention of the government detectives, 
anxious for advancement and not over-scrupulous as to how 
they secured it. These officials, learning that the old man's 
sympathies were with the South, told him that the Confed- 
erate forces stood in pressing need of quinine and percussion 
caps, that it was an easy matter to trade through the lines, 
(Memphis was then in the possession of the Federal troops,) 
and that, if he would undertake to supply these wants, he could 
speedily and safely repair his fortunes. The minister fell into 



374 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

the trap thus prepared for him. He was arrested with the 
contraband articles in his possession, tried by a miHtary court, 
and condemned to death, 

" 'He is to be shot day after to-morrow,' said Mr. BulHtt. 
'Can you not help us to save him? I am sure you will, if it 
is in your power." 

"Mr. Voorhees, deeply moved by his visitor's distress, but 
knowing that an appeal to Secretary Stanton would be without 
avail, resolved upon the instant to carry the matter straight 
to Mr. Lincoln. Before the day was ended, he sought out 
Henry vS. Lane and Thomas A. Hendricks, who then repre- 
sented Indiana in the Senate, and secured promises of their 
aid in the minister's behalf. A similar promise was obtained 
from William R. Morrison, a member of the House from 
Illinois and well acquainted with the President. The four 
drove next morning to the White House, accompanied by Mr. 
and Mrs. Bullitt, and were soon in Mr. Lincoln's presence. 
Senator Hendricks, acting as their spokesman, introduced Mrs. 
Bullitt as the daughter of Rev. Henry F. Luckett. 

" 'You will, perhaps, remember him,' added the Senator ; 
'he once preached in Springfield." 

" 'Yes,' answered the President, 'I remember him well. A 
farmer came to my office, one day, and, taking me for Elder 
Luckett, said : 'You must come out and preach again next 
Sunday. Your last sermon did great good, and was thought 
the best we ever heard.' I rather liked being mistaken for a 
Methodist preacher, and did not break the delusion. Oh, yes, 
I remember him well, and have ofter heard him preach. There 
was some resemblance between us. He is tall and dark, like 
me, and I have been mistaken for him on the street.' 

" 'We bring you terrible news, to-day, from that man,' 
said Senator Hendricks ; 'he is to be shot.' 

" 'To be shot ?' queried the President, while a look of sur- 
prise and interest stole into his rugged face. 



Abraham Lincoln 375 

" 'Yes. His daughter brings you a statement of the case/ 

Mr. Voorhees had written out a brief record of the facts; 
and this, with a few affidavits from people who knew the con- 
demned man and were famihar with his condition, was handed 
to the President, who, settHng back in his chair, proceeded to 
read the papers aloud, but to himself. For a time he seemed 
lost to his surroundings. Then he looked up, and his eyes 
rested for a moment on the white-faced woman before him. 
Soon he said : 

" 'There must be something wrong with your father, or 
he would not be in this trouble. He shall not be shot. I do not 
know what more I can do for him, but his life is safe. I will 
telegraph Hurlbut at once,' — and he proceeded to write the 
message which heads this paper. 'I reckon that will do,' he 
added, after he had read it aloud. A Secretary appeared in 
response to a bell. 'Take this message,' said the President, 
'and send it quickly. Remain at the office till it gets through. 
See that it is answered, and that I am informed." 

"Thus was this duty made obligatory upon the Secretary, 
and the executive mind was at rest, but not that of the anxious 
daughter, who voiced the fear that some mistake might in- 
tervene to thwart the President's command. 

" 'My child,' said Lincoln, with a low laugh, 'if your father 
lives to see that sentence executed, Methusaleh will be an in- 
fant compared with him.' " 

THE GIRL WHO DIDNT WEAR HOOPS 

Humor and pathos were often blended in the President's 
exercise of the pardoning power. Lieutenant-Governor Ford, 
of Ohio, on going to the White House on an autumn evening, 
in 1862, to keep an appointment with Mr. Lincoln, was ac- 
costed in the vestibule by a young woman, whose drawn face 
and swollen eyes bore witness to the fact that she was in sore 
trouble. Ford halted to listen to her story. It had to do with 



2;j(i CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

an orphaned brother and sister, who had come from Germany 
and settled in one of the Western States. The brother, when 
the war came, had entered the army, and, falHng among evil 
associates, had been induced to desert, with the usual sequel, — 
capture, trial, and sentence to death. The sister, who was in 
domestic service, had borrowed the money for the journey to 
Washington to lay the case before the President. She had 
vainly sought for two days to secure an audience with him, 
and finally had been ordered away by the servants. 

"Come with me," said Ford, when she had finished, "and 
I will see what can be done." So saying, he led her upstairs 
and into the presence of Mr. Lincoln. "Mr. President," said he, 
after greetings had been exchanged, "my business must wait 
until you have heard what this young woman has just told me." 

Mr. Lincoln, seating himself at his desk, listened in silence 
to the girl's story, and then ©arefully examined the petition for 
a pardon which she handed him, which bore the signatures of a 
few persons who had formerly known her brother. This done, 
he studied her tear-stained face, and the threadbare garb 
which told of her poverty. 

"My child," said he, kindly, "you have come here with no 
one to plead your cause. I believe you to be honest and 
truthful, and — " this with emphasis, — "you don't wear hoops : 
I will spare your brother." 

Such was the trend of Lincoln's charity. He seemed to 
have a clear insight into human nature. He knew when a man 
or a woman was telling him the truth. He always longed to 
give charity when charity was necessary, and when its object 
deserved to be thought of. To him, a kind act was more than 
the high office that he had attained. 

WHY THE LORD MADE SO MANY 

On Lincoln's lips, the words that often came were these, — • 
"The common people," To those who lived with him and 



Abraham Lincoln 377 

talked with him, especially during the Civil War, it seemed 
as if he could never cease thinking of those who were just 
human beings, unlettered, unknown, inglorious. A Congress- 
man from a western district approached him during his term 
as President, and apologized for presenting a petition from his 
constituents, because they were very common people. 

"Well," said Lincoln, pleasantly, "God must love the com- 
mon people. He's made so many of 'em." 

LINCOLN'S PRESCRIPTION 

There is a story, still current in Illinois, which says that an 
old farmer friend of President Lincoln's who used to corres- 
pond with him, complained on one occasion of his poor health. 
He received the following reply, which is quoted in Illinois as 
"Lincoln's Prescription:" "Do not worry. Eat three square 
meals a day. Say your prayers. Think of your wife. Be 
courteous to your creditors. Keep your digestion good. Steer 
clear of biliousness. Exercise. Go slow and go easy. Mavbe 
there are other things that your especial case requires to make 
you happy ; but, my dear friend, these, I reckon, will give you 
a good lift." 

"BROWSING AROUND FOR SOMETHING TO EAT" 

He disliked to have people wait upon him. In Springfield, 
he would walk home for a law paper, rather than ask me, his 
clerk, to go for it ; and in Washington, one night, I recollect, 
he was discovered in the basement of the White House. 

"What are you doing here, Mr. Lincoln ?" someone asked. 

"Well, I'm browsing around for something to eat," an- 
swered the President. 

LINCOLN'S FIRST GREAT SORROW 
Hezikiah Butterworth beautifully retells the story of the 
first great sorrow of Abraham Lincoln's life : 



378 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

" 'Abraham !' called a voice scarcely audible. The speaker 
lay on her humble cot, dying. The young wife of a pioneer 
backwoodsman, she was sacrificing- her life to its fortitude. 
The pioneer's "shuck" was without windows, and its doors 
stood open to the sunlight, which danced on the floor of 
trampled earth. It contained a few stools made of roughly 
hewn boards, but no chairs ; a few dishes, but no cupboard. 

"Without, the restless wings of the woodbirds glimmered as 
they fluttered through the sun-flooded trees. A boy, almost 
destitute of clothing, who had been watching them, answered 
his mother's call. 

" 'What is it ?' he asked, in a troubled voice, as he hastened 
to her side. 

"She drew him into the loving folds of her feeble arms, and 
said, in a voice weak and tremulous, yet still thrilling with a 
mother's love and hope : 

" 'I am going to leave you, Abe, — and, — oh, how hard it 
is to part with you ! How beautiful it is out-doors ! It is 
beautiful wherever God is, and I am going to meet Him in a 
brighter world than this. I learned to love Him at the old 
camp meetings, and I want you to learn to love Him, too. 

" 'I have not had much to make me happy,' she continued, 
still more slowly, and with a heavy sigh, — ' I have not had a 
great deal to make me happy, — far less than some folks have 
had, — but my voice has never failed to rise in praise whenever 
a feeling of thanksgiving has come to me. 

" 'Abraham Lincoln, you have my heart. I am thankful 
God gave you to us. Love everybody ; hinder nobody, and the 
world will be glad, some day, that you were born. This is a 
beautiful world, to the loving and believing. I am grateful 
for life; for everything, but, more than all else, because you 
have my heart.' 
: " 'But he can't sing, Nancy !' 

"A tall pioneer in buckskin stood in the cabin doorv\^ay. He 



Mary A. Livermore; 379 

saw death's shadow in the sunHght that fell on the floor. He 
had added a ripple of laughter to his words, for he wanted to 
cheer his wife even though she was passing from him. 

"The woman was silent. Thomas Lincoln approached his 
wife's deathbed. Then he repeated, still more kindly : 

" 'But he can't sing like you, Nancy !' 

" 'The heart sings in many ways,' she replied, very feebly. 
'Some hearts make other hearts sing. Abraham may not have 
my voice, but he has my heart, and he may make others sing. 
I am going, now.' 

"The cool October wind rustled among the great trees, caus- 
ing their leaves to ripple like waves of the sea, wimpling and 
dimpling under the whispering wind. The woman turned her 
head toward the split logs that formed one of the walls of the 
cabin. Nervously her fingers twitched the coverlet ; once she 
opened her eyes ; once she said, softly, O, so softly ! 'My Abra- 
ham!' Once she tried to lift herself to see him; once, — she 
trembled, — and then lay still. 

" 'She's gone, Ab'ram !' 

"The father and son made her coffin with their own hands, 
and buried her under the trees. Poor little Abraham could 
say nothing. He had been used to hardships, but this seemed 
more than he could endure. Something seemed to be choking 
him. He tried to look into his father's face for sympathy, but 
his tear-dimmed eyes only found it in the newly made grave." 

MARY A. LIVERMORE 

WITH A DYING SOLDIER 
T N her wonderful work in the hospitals, caring for wounded 
^ soldiers during the Civil War, Mrs. Livermore halted one 
day beside one on whose handsome face the unmistakable look 
of death was settling. He labored painfully for breath, and 
large drops of perspiration stood out on his forehead. 



380 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

Mrs. Livermore thus tells the story of her further service to 
this man : 

"You are suffering a great deal," I said. 

"Oh, yes! Oh, yes!" he gasped, "I am, I am! but not in 
body. I can bear that. I don't mind pain — I can bear anything 
— but I can't die! I can't die!" 

"But perhaps you may not die. It is not certain but you 
may recover. While there is life there is hope, you know." 

"Oh, no, I can't live — I know it — there's no chance for me. 
I've got to die — and I can't die ! / am afraid to die !" 

I went to a surgeon, still in the ward, and inquired about 
the man. The poor fellow was right; there was no chance for 
him. "He was horribly cut up," the surgeon said. One leg 
had been amputated, the other had suffered two amputations, 
the last one taking off the leg between the knee and hip ; the 
right arm had been broken, a caisson had crushed the lower 
left arm, and he had been shot twice through the abdomen. 
"There had been no expectation of his life when he was first 
brought in," said the surgeon ; "and it seemed an utterly hope- 
less case. But he has pulled along from day to day, as if in 
defiance of death, and at last there seemed a ghost of a chance 
for his recovery ; but gangrene has set in, and defies medical 
treatment, and it will be over with him in a few hours. All you 
can do is to help him die easy." I returned to the poor fel- 
low, whose anxious eyes were following m.e. 

"What does the doctor say?" he asked. "Oh, I know I 
must die! I can't! I can't! / can't!" And he almost 
shrieked in his mental distress, and trembled so violently as to 
shake the bed. 

"Why are you afraid to die?" I inquired. "Tell me, my 
poor boy." 

"I ain't fit to die. I have lived an awful life, and I'm 
afraid to die. I shall go to hell." 

I drew a camp-stool to his bedside, and, sitting down, put 



Mary A. Livermore; 381 

my hands on his shoulders, and spoke in commanding tones, 
as to an excited child: "Stop screaming. Be quiet. This 
excitement is shortening your life. If you must die, die like 
a man, and not like a coward. Be still, and listen to me." And 
I proceeded to combat his fear of death and his sense of guilt 
with assurances of God's willingness to pardon. I told him of 
Christ's mission on earth, and assured him that however great 
had been his sins they would be forgiven of God, since he was 
penitent, and sought forgiveness. And I bade him repeat after 
me the words of a prayer, which he did with tearful earnest- 
ness. I backed up my assurances by quotations from the 
Bible and illustrations from the life of Christ ; but I made little 
impression on the dying man. 

''Can't you get a Methodist minister?" he asked. "I used 
to belong to the Methodist church, but I fell away. Oh, send 
for a Methodist minister!" 

One of the attendants remembered that the hospital steward 
was also a Methodist minister, and hastened to find him. To 
him I communicated the particulars of the case, and besought 
him to assist in allaying the anguish of the dying man, which 
was distressing to witness. Whatever was done for him must 
be done speedily, as he was fast sinking. 

The announcement that the steward was a Methodist min- 
ister was beneficial to the sufferer. To him he listened eagerly. 
"The love of Christ," was the Chaplain's theme. "He had only 
to trust in the Saviour, only ask for forgiveness, and God, 
who was always ready to pardon, would grant his prayer. 
Christ had died to save just such conscience-smitten, stricken, 
penitent souls as he" — thus ran the Chaplain's talk. And then 
he prayed, earnestly, feelingly, tenderly— the dying man fre- 
quently taking up the prayer and joining in it. 

"Can't you sing, Chaplain?" I inquired. For it seemed 
to me the poor fellow, in this last hour of life, needed soothing 
more than arsjument or entreatv. 



382 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

Immediately, in a rich, full, clear tenor, whose melody 
floated through the ward, and charmed every groan and wail 
into silence, he sang hymn after hymn, all of them familiar 
to most of his audience. 

"Come, humble sinner, in whose breast 
A thousand thoughts revolve ;" — 

"Love divine, all love excelling, 

Joy or heaven, to earth come down ;" — 

"Jesus, lover of my soul. 
Let me to thy bosom fly:" — 

"My days are gliding swiftly by, 
And I a pilgrim stranger;" — 

All of them hymns so well known to his dying auditor that 
I saw he followed the singer verse after verse. The music 
affected him as I had hoped. The burden rolled from the poor 
boy's heart, and in feeble, tender tones he said, "It's all right 
with me. Chaplain ! I will trust in Christ ! God will forgive 
me ! I can die, now !" 

"Sing on, Chaplain!" I suggested, as he was about to 
pause, to make reply. "God is sending peace and light into the 
troubled soul of this poor boy, through these divine hymns, 
and your heavenly voice, sing on ! don't stop !" 

He continued to sing, but now chose a different style of 
hymn and tune, and burst forth into the most rapturous 
strain : 



"Come, sing to me of heaven 
For I'm about to die : 

Sing songs of holy ecstasy, 
To waft my soul on high. 



Mary A. Livermori: 383 

There'll be no sorrow there, 
There'll be no sorrow there, 

In heaven above, where all is love, 
There'll be no sorrow there." 

I looked down the ward, and saw that the wan faces of the 
men, contracted with pain, were brightening; I looked at the 
dying man beside me, and saw underneath the deepening pallor 
of death, an almost radiant gleam. 

With folded hands, and upturned gaze, almost entranced 
with his own music, the Chaplain continued to sing: 

"When cold, the hand of death 

Lies on my marble brow. 
Break forth in songs of joyfulness, 

Let heaven begin below. 
There'll be no sorrow there," etc. 

"Then to my raptured ear 

Let one sweet song be given ; 
Let music charm me last on earth, 

And greet me first in Heaven. 
There'll be no sorrow there," etc. 

A second and a third time he repeated the song, the exul- 
tant air suiting well the triumphant words. Patients, attend- 
ants, surgeons, all in the ward, glowed under the soaring mel- 
ody, and the dying man's face grew rapturous. Then the 
Chaplain was summoned away, by a call from his office. It 
was getting late in the afternoon, for I had tarried a couple 
of hours at this bedside, when my friends came from other 
wards of the hospital, to say that it was time to return. 

"Don't go! stay!" whispered the fast sinking man. The 
words rushed to my memory, "Inasmuch as ye have done it 
unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me," and I 



384 Capitai. Stories About P'amous Americans 

promised to remain with him to the end. The end came sooner 
than any one thought. Before the sun went down, he had 
drifted to the immortal shore. 



E 



JOHN D. LONG 

SEEXING FOR A PLACE 
X-SECRETARY LONG tells some interesting stories of 



place seekers in the departments at Washington: 
"I remember one dear old friend of mine, a clergyman, who 
came to me hoping to get a place for his son. The son was 
out of health and the father thought that the climate of the 
Cape of Good Hope would be helpful. He had seen that there 
was a vacancy in the position of Counsul at some town there. 
I was happy to go with him to the Department of State, where 
the matter was looked up. It was found that the place was 
vacant. I said, as I could well say, a hearty word for my 
friend, and the official in charge seemed to think that the posi- 
tion could be had. There was hardly time for a happy smile to 
fully illuminate the face of the good clergyman before the 
official added, 'Do you know what the compensation is?' and 
on our saying that we did not, he informed us that during 
the last year it had amounted to one dollar and fifty cents, and 
that the place was generally held by some local resident, al- 
though for some time past nobody had been found who would 
take it. It is needless to say that the young man did not go to 
the Cape of Good Hope. 

"An amusing incident was a call which I had from a most 
worthy gentleman, who said that he had been detailed by the 
Civil Service Reform Association of his State to come to 
Washington and protest in behalf of good politics against a 
bill to transfer the clerks of the Census Bureau, who had been 
appointed without civil service examination and whose work 
was now finished, into the ranks of the regular civil service. 



John Mackay 385 

He said that this was utterly indefensible and an injustice to 
persons who had passed the examination and were entitled to 
enter the civil service in their due turn, and who, if this bill 
passed, would be set back and many of them would lose their 
opportunity altogether. He said it was a blow at civil service 
reform, that we in Washington had no idea of the feeling 
which the bill had aroused in the home States, and that the 
principle of appointment upon examination and merit and not 
upon personal influence and favoritism must be enforced. As 
he rose to go, he turned back and said, in the most innocent 
and entirely sincere manner, ''Governor, by the way, I have a 
boy about twenty }'ears old, who is trying to do something in a 
business house but does not seem to succeed. He is a good boy 
and I want to get him a place. I thought that perhaps you or 
some of our friends here would have influence enough to help 
me get him a position in some of these departments?" I did 
not even smile. I knew that a more sincere and honest soul 
never lived, and that it was the usual example of a man of 
genuine devotion to principle as applied to the world at large, 
yet utterly blind and unconscious when his own self-interest 
is concerned. 

JOHN W. MACKAY 

A ROMANCE OF A MINING CAMP 
TDOBERT MACKAY tells this story of the romantic rise 
-^ of John W. Mackay : 

"On the day that John W. Mackay arrived in Virginia 
City, a rugged miner, who had worked in the Downieville 
claims with him and had preceded him to the Comstock Lode, 
met him on the famous C Street of Virginia City. Mackay 
was tired from a long tramp, for the only communication with 
Virginia City in those days was by stage-coach, and the one on 
which Mackav had ridden from Sacramento had met with a 



386 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

mishap; but the energetic miner, not to be delayed by an ac- 
cident, left the disabled vehicle on the highway and walked into 
town. His overalls were tucked in his boots, his red shirt was 
almost gray with dust, and his wide sombrero shaded a face 
that can only be described by a word born of the mines,, — 
'grizzled,' 

" 'John,' said the old miner, as he extended his hand, 'you're 
just the man they want here. There are some good fellows, 
John, but the subject is too deep. I have looked over the 
strata of the hill and 1 wouldn't be a bit surprised if it contains 
more gold than you ever saw.' 

"John W. Mackay said nothing. He simply smiled, but the 
next morning he was around early looking for a partner. It 
was the custom in the old Comstock days for two miners to 
'chum' together in a sort of partnership, and honor was the 
strongest tie that bound them. When John W. Mackay looked 
for a partner that morning, he wanted a man in whom he could 
place the stanchest confidence, one who would not desert him 
in the darkest hour of despair, who would stand by him as 
willingly when hope seemed gone as when fortune seemed 
within grasp. Mackay's motto was, 'Never say die.' He 
wanted a partner who had followed that motto, too, and he 
found him in James G. Fair. 

"Both had mined in California. Fair was from the Feather 
River district, where he had made mining a practical study; 
and, like Mackay, he had an original mind. The two men 
erected a common log cabin, and, being too poor to board at 
the hotel, where beefsteaks sold at ten dollars apiece and coffee 
was considered a luxury, they did their own cooking, often 
going into the hills to hunt for food. They engaged as com- 
mon miners to the man who owned claims all over the side of 
Mt. Davidson, and with only one object in view, that of saving 
their money. All the time they were working, however, they 
were studying the gradations of the earth, the formation of the 



John Mackay 387 

rock, the shoad of the strata, which their keen minds told led 
to a pocket of unlimited gold. It was shortly after the opening 
of the great Consolidated Virginia Mine that these two men 
saw the possibilities of a fortune. All they needed was the 
money to buy the mine. The owners who wanted to 'get rich 
quick' had no hope for the undertaking. Once they wanted to 
abandon it, but the hope some people put in it told them that 
there might be something gained by continuing the work. 

"One day Mackay said to Fair, 'Let us buy the mine.' 

" 'They want more than we've got,' said Fair. 'They won't 
sell under eighty thousand dollars.' 

" 'I guess we can fix that,' said Mackay, 

"Just beyond 'the 'divide,' two men kept a store. They 
were James L. Flood and William O'Brien. They had saved 
some money after a few years of trading with the miners, 
were ready for a deal in one of the mines, and had faith in 
Mackay and Fair. So, when Mackay walked into their 
store one morning and remarked, 'Jim Flood, if you and 
O'Brien will put up the money. Fair and I will put up the 
brains, and I think the four of us can buy the 'Con' Virginia 
and make something out of it.' 

" 'How much do you want, John ?' said Flood. 

" 'Eighty thousand dollars.' 

"The deal was closed on the spot. The history of the 'Con' 
Virginia is as well known, almost, as the story of Washington 
and the cherry tree. Before the four miners had struck the 
'lead,' they had exhausted their money and their credit 
There seemed to be nothing in the rock they brought out of 
the earth. Other miners met them day after day and laughed 
at their apparently hopeless task. They were jeered and made 
fun of. But they kept serious faces and sober minds, and were 
not to be thwarted by the idle talk of idlers. 

"One morning, when the prospect seemed blackest, a friend 
said to Mackay: 



388 Capital Storiks About Famous Americans 

" 'John, luck has gone against you ; why don't you quit and 
go prospecting?' 

" 'The man who figures on hick in mining,' said Mackay, 
'is a fool; the man who figures on doing a lot of hard work 
and not losing his grit will get something.' 

"The four partners did not lose their grit, nor did they rely 
on luck. One afternoon, the rumor spread over Virginia City 
that the ' 'Con' Virginia men' had struck a body of ore. It 
spread as wildfire often swept over the Nevada prairies. The 
four men left their mine at sundown and walked down C 
Street amid a babel of cheers, 

"The next morning, the Consolidated Virginia stock had 
gone from eighty cents to two hundred and fifty dollars a 
share, and in another day up to five hundred dollars a 
share. In three days, it was announced that the body of rock 
was so large that its value could not be estimated. In 
two weeks, the United States Government was negotiating 
with the owners of the mine for the redemption of bonds 
whose values had been affected by the Civil War. In two 
months, the financial centres of old Europe had felt the 
shock, and about the same time Mackay, Flood, Fair and 
O'Brien were able to announce that they were millionaires 
beyond the dreams of avarice. 

"This is a story of mining success that was not dominated 
by luck. The long history of the Comstock Lode will show 
that it was not a place for men who relied on luck. Mark 
Twain tells us well, in his wonderful Roughing It, that the 
idlers and the dreamers were not the men for Nevada, and that 
he remembers that the most successful men were those big- 
boned, stern-faced, determined-looking men who had been born 
to energy and with an unswerving desire to stick to the work 
until the last hope and the last semblance of energy had been 
taken by death. These are the men who developed the Com- 
stock Lode. 



George; B. McClellan 389 

GEORGE B. MCCLELLAN 

WHEN HE INTERVIEWED MORGAN 

'npHROUGH the swift turn of the whirHgig of events, 
-■- Alayor George B. McClehan, of Greater New York, 
finds that half the pubHc men he meets officially or sits next 
to at dinner are men whom he has interviewed, which fre- 
quently moves him to relate adventures of his newspaper days. 

A favorite of these is his interview with J. Pierpont Mor- 
gan. He avers that it was the most picturesque in his gamut 
of reportorial experiences, which, covering three years on three 
papers of different types, were rich and varied. He began on a 
newspaper, where, as he explains it, he wrote the Paris letter, 
got up the joke column, wrote the questions and answers for 
a standing editorial-page feature called "Our Question Box," 
wrote editorial paragraphs, and, every other Saturday, when 
his managing editor was away, wrote the London letter, — all 
for ten dollars a week. In turn he was exchange editor. Wall 
Street man, political reporter, railroad reporter, editorial 
writer, and suggester of ideas to the city editor. 

It was in his Wall Street days that the J. Pierpont Morgan 
episode happened. 

"A new editor did it, — it is not necessary to say," said the 
Mayor. "The new man had a lot of ideas, which he had been 
keeping in storage for use when he should get into authority. 
He proceeded right away to reform things. He had an idea 
that all the men were in a rut and that things were not spicy 
enough. He wanted to sharpen up the paper. One after 
another he called the men to him and solemnly outlined his 
ideas. My turn came in time. 

" 'McClellan,' he said, we want to make the Wall Street 
stuff breezier. It's too dry and uninteresting. I want you to 
liven things up. Put some ginger in it. Here's my idea : for 
a starter, I want you, to-day, to get a nice, chatty column-and- 



390 Capital Storie;s About Famous Americans 

a-half interview with J. Pierpont Morgan.' I gasped, and he 
went on, 'Oh, that's all right. Just let him talk about anything 
he wants to, but make it chatty.' 

"Think of that ! 'A nice, chatty column-and-a-half inter- 
view with J. Pierpont Morgan !' I didn't laugh then, but we 
all laughed together when I told the boys about it while we 
were talking over the assignments we had received, in the little 
basement where we used to meet, just across the street from 
Mr. Morgan's office. The nearest any of us had got to Mr. 
Morgan was the outside of the glass door of his office. We 
used to wait in the basement for something to happen. 

"But with a new editor to whom all things are easy it was 
different. Something heroic had to be done. I reflected that 
maybe we thought it was harder to get an interview with Mr. 
Morgan than it really was, so I went over to his office and 
started in for my 'nice, chatty, column-and-a-half interview.' " 

Here the Mayor laughed until his face was almost purple 
at the recollection. 

"Did you get it ?" I asked. 

"Get it?" he laughed, with a look which I fancy he must 
have given his new editor when the latter's back was turned, 
"Get it? I got a scowl and a snort !" 

OFFICE SEEKERS AT BAY 

A newspaper report at the time gives this entertaining 
picture of McClellan's stand against the office seekers of his 
party when he first became Mayor of New York : 

"Politicians with set expressions on their faces are con- 
stantly hurrying along the City Hall corridors that leads to the 
big room in the corner, with the windows overlooking the park, 
where the Mayor sits at his desk ready to receive them. Dis- 
trict leaders with thousands of votes in their control pass in, 
and in their excitement raise their voices in threatening 
speeches. 



WltLIAM McKlNLEY 391 

" 'But I've spent a lot of money in this campaign, — a big 
pile of money," one exclaimed. "I've got to get this money 
back, and I've got to make good with the 'boys' ! ' 

" 'That is your responsibility, not mine,' replied the Mayor. 

" 'But you're trying to cut out our chances,' cried the leader. 
'We elected you. You knew what we'd expect. You're not 
so young and inexperienced as not to know what your election 
signified.' 

" 'I know very well what it signified,' the Mayor answered, 
'but it seems that you did not.' " 

WILLIAM MCKINLEY 

HIS FIRST CASE 

AFTER McKinley had been admitted to the bar and opened 
- his law office in Canton, Ohio, a fortnight passed without 
a client, and the youthful lawyer was beginning to find the time 
hang very heavy on his hands. Then one day, his old pre- 
ceptor. Judge Glidden, stepped into his little office. 

"McKinley," said he, "here are the papers in a case of mine. 
It comes up to-morrow. I have got to go out of town, and I 
want you to take charge of it for me." 

McKinley was nonplussed. He declared that he could not 
do justice to the case at so short a notice. "I never have tried 
a single case yet, Judge," said he. 

"Well, begin on this one, then," was the Judge's reply. 
And it was finally settled that McKinley should do so. He 
sat up all night working on the case, tried it the next day, and 
won it. A few days later Judge Glidden entered his office and 
handed him $25. McKinley demurred at taking it. 

"It is too much for one day's work," he said. 

"Don't let that worry you," replied Glidden, good-natur- 
edly. "I charged them $100 for the case, and I can well 
afiford a quarter of it to you." 



392 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

A WITNESS WITH A CROOKED LEG 

A year or two later McKinley found himself pitted against 
John McSweeney, then considered one of the most brilliant 
lawyers of the Ohio bar. The case was a suit for damages 
for malpractice, the plaintiff charging that a surgeon had set 
his broken leg in such a way as to make him bow-legged on 
that side. McKinley defended the surgeon. McSweeney 
brought his client into court and had the injured limb ex- 
posed to the view of the jury. It certainly was very crooked 
and the case looked bad for the surgeon. McKinley had both 
eyes wide open, however, and fixed them to good purpose 
upon the man's other leg. As soon as the witness was turned 
over to him, he asked that the other leg should also be bared. 
The plaintiff and McSweeney vigorously objected, but the 
Judge ordered it done. Then it appeared that this second leg 
was still more crooked than that which the surgeon had set. 

"My client seems to have done better by this man than 
nature itself did," said McKinley, "and I move that the suit 
be dismissed, with a recommendation to the plaintiff that he 
have the other leg broken and then set by the surgeon who set 
the first one." 

LOYALTY TO HIS FRIEND 

At the National Republican Convention of 1888, McKinley 
represented Ohio as a delegate-at-large and as an earnest and 
loyal supporter of John Sherman. At that Convention, after 
the first day's balloting, the indications were that Mr. McKin- 
ley himself might be made the candidate. Then his strength 
of purpose and his high ideas of loyalty and honor showed 
themselves, for in an earnest and stirring speech he demanded 
that no vote be cast for him. From the first, two delegates had 
been voting persistently for him, although he had not, of course, 
been formally placed in nomination. Now the number of his 
supporters rose to fourteen. All the Republican Congress- 



WiLUAM McKiNI.EY 39^ 

men at Washington telegraphed to the Convention urging his. 
nomination. The air became electrified with premonitions of 
a stampede. 

Mr. McKinley had listened to the announcement of the 
two votes for him on each ballot with mingled annoyance and 
amusement. But now the case was growing serious. The 
next ballot might give him a majority of the whole Con- 
vention. He had only to sit still and the ripe fruit would drop 
into his hands. He had only to utter an equivocal pro- 
test and the result would be the same. But there was nothing 
equivocal about William McKinley. On one side was his per- 
sonal honor; on the other side the Presidency of the United 
States. In choosing between the two, hesitation was impossi- 
ble. He sprang to his feet with an expression upon his face 
and an accent in his voice that thrilled the vast assembly, but 
hushed it mute and silent as the grave while he spoke : 

"I am here as one of the chosen representatives of my State, 
I am here by resolution of the Republican State Convention^ 
passed without a single dissenting vote commanding me to- 
cast my vote for John Sherman for President and to use every 
worthy endeavor for his nomination. I accepted the trust be- 
cause my heart and my judgment were in accord with the letter 
and spirit and purpose of that resolution. It has pleased 
certain delegates to cast their votes for me for President. I 
am not insensible to the honor they would do me, but in the 
presence of the duty resting upon me, I cannot remain silent 
with honor. 

"I cannot, consistently with the wish of the State whose 
credentials I bear and which has trusted me; I cannot with 
honorable fidelity to John Sherman; I cannot, consistently 
with my own views of personal integrity, consent, or seem to 
consent, to permit my name to be used as a candidate before 
this Convention. I would not respect myself if I should find it 
in my heart to do so, or permit to be done that which would 



394 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Ame;ricans 

■ever be ground for any one to suspect that I wavered in my 
loyalty to Ohio or my devotion to the chief of her choice and 
the chief of mine. I do not request, I demand, that no dele- 
gate who would not cast reflection upon me shall cast a ballot 
for me." 

That ended it, and the threatened stampede was averted. 
But, although the nomination was not forced upon Mr. 
McKinley, neither could he secure it for Mr. Sherman, 
although he loyally strove to do so till the end. 

LOYALTY TO OLD COMRADES 

Loyalty to old friends, absolutely without regard to their 
worldly station, was a conspicuous trait of McKinley's char- 
acter. 

At the second inauguration among the White House guests 
were Jack Adams, who runs the President's farm near Canton, 
and a friend, Mr. Alexander, a tinsmith, from Minerva, Co- 
lumbiana County, Ohio. Mr. Adams came to Washington at 
the President's invitation, but had no idea of doing more than 
"'eating one meal in the White House," as he expressed it. 
Here is ]\Ir. Adams' own story of how he happened to be 
stopping at the White House during the inauguration week: 

"Jiist before the inauguration of 1897, ^r- McKinley 
asked me if I did not want to come to Washington. Well, I 
was pretty busy on the farm just then, so I said no, I would 
come to the next one. The President laughed, and said to re- 
mind him and he would send me a pass. I got it. When my 
friend Alexander and I went up to the White House the 
President held out his hand and said : Tm glad to see you,' 
and asked me about my health and my family and how every- 
body was doing. I told him I had just come to town and got 
a room. He said : 'Not a bit of it. You are to stay right here 
in the White House, you and your friend.' I said that I did 
not like to impose upon him, but he replied that it was no im- 



WiLUAM McKlNLEY 395 

■ position, and that I must bring my grip and stay the week 
out as his guest and he would see that I had a good time and 
do everything for me that he could do. He made out a ticket 

: that passed us to the grand stand to see the parade ; also gave 
us seats at the Capitol and admission to the inauguration ball,"" 

A MIDNIGHT INTERVIEW 

Thomas W. Bradley, of Waldon, New York, went to Wash- 
ington to see Major McKinley about a tariff matter of im- 
portance. 

"I felt," said Mr. Bradley, in relating the story, "that the 

■ practice ought to be stopped, and I went to Washington to lay 
.- the matter before the committee on ways and means, of which 

Mr. McKinley was chairman. I did not reach the hotel until 
very late at night, just before the committee adjourned. I 
sent my card up to the chairman's room, asking for five minutes 
. of his time on the morrow. He sent word that every moment 
: of the next day was bespoken, but that he would give me five 
, minutes then. I went up to his room and said : Mr. McKin- 
ley, I wanted five minutes to tell you I want forty-five min- 
: utes of your time.' He said : 'I am tired almost to death ; it 
• is midnight, and you see I am partly undressed for bed. I do 
, not see how I can grant your request.' I told him I repre- 
1 sented five hundred working men besides myself. He replied 
, quickly: 'Then your cause is more important than my sleep. 

■ Proceed !' We talked together, neither of us noticing the flight 
r of time, till a quarter to three in the morning, when he said : 

'Colonel, I believe in you and your cause, and, if you make as 
good a representation of your case to the committee as you 
have to me, I think the law you suggest will be recommended.' 
The law was recommended and passed. After that midnight 
i= interview, I never had any difficulty in seeing how it was that 
William McKinley secured the nomination for and was elected 
to the Presidency of the United States." 



396 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

HOW SERGEANT MCKINLEY WON HIS LIEUTENANCY 

The editor of Success tells this story : 

"The Civil War had scarcely broken out when a sturdy 
lad of seventeen walked into the recruiting office of John C. 
Fremont, the great Pathfinder, in an Ohio town. 

"He simply asked to be enlisted and sent to the front. His 
eagerness was noticed by the veteran plainsman, who spoke 
kindly to him and ordered that his name be enrolled. 

"There began a life romance which culminated in the White 
House. The boy was William McKinley. He was assigned to 
the Twenty-Third Ohio Regiment, of which Rutherford B. 
Hayes was Colonel. 

"At Antietam came an incident which, in my opinion, is 
one of the most thrilling of that awful war. Lee had pushed 
his victorious legions into Maryland. Stonewall Jackson was 
by his side. Longstreet was in the front of the fight, — all on 
the Southern side. On the Northern side were McClellan and 
Sheridan, grimly contesting every foot of the advance. On 
the first day of the battle, September 17, 1862, the troops on 
both sides fought with such desperation that no less than 
twenty-three thousand men were wounded or killed. On the 
second day, from early morning, Lee's terrific fire was directed 
upon the Federal line, which had been turned against his right. 
On the banks of the creek, to the left of the bridge was the 
Twenty-Third Ohio. Colonel Hayes had been wounded 
shortly before at South Mountain, so he was not in command 
of his regiment this day. He was in the village a few miles 
to the rear, watching the smoke of battle in agonized unrest. 
General Scammon was in command in his stead. Away to the 
rear was the Commissary Sergeant of the Regiment, waiting for 
orders. As the hot and dusty day wore on, and evening fell, 
this Sergeant grew impatient to be at the front, not to fight, but 
to carry food and drink to his exhausted comrades, who had 
had neither breakfast nor dinner. Finally he hooked up two 



Nelson A. Milks 397 

wagons, called for volunteer drivers, and started for the front 
without orders. As he approached the front, one team of 
mules was shot down. With the other he pushed on, braving- 
the leaden hail and the bursting- shells, and succeeding- in 
reaching the boys of his command. 

"How -they cheered him as he drove up! A few minutes 
later. General Scammon rode up to ascertain the cause of the 
cheering. Instead of reprimanding the boy, he thanked him 
for his thoughtfulness and bravery and permitted him to dis- 
tribute the refreshments under fire. With his own hand Ser- 
geant McK'inley, — for it was he — passed around 'cups of 
steaming hot coffee and liberal rations of bread and meat. 
The fight was maintained right along. The battle proved to 
the North that Lee could be defeated. 

"Colonel Hayes was so pleased when he heard of this ex- 
ploit that he asked Governor Todd, of Ohio, to commission 
the boy a Lieutenant. This was done September 24, 1862. 

"Thus in one brave boy's life there has been a triple 
romance, — his enlistment by a presidential candidate, his rec- 
ommendation, by another man who became President, for a 
commission, and finally his own accession to the chief magis- 
tracy of the nation." 

NELSON A. MILES 

THE STORY OF A PICTURE 

TT G. KIMBALL tells the following story of General 
■*--*-• Miles: Kimball was a member of Battery A, Phila- 
delphia, in the Spanish- American War. In a place of honor in 
his studio stands a handsome photograph of the General. 
"That," observed Mr. Kimball, quietly, but enthusiasm light- 
ing up his face — "that is my ideal of a soldier. They say he 
is pompous, self-indulgent, a carpet warrior; but I know better. 
I saw him at Ponce, and I know he is not so." Then, after 



398 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

much coaxing, he continued, "Oh, it happened Hke this, you 
know. The horses were still on the transport, which was 
aground outside the harbor, and we had to go in details to 
look after them. The one I was assigned to was waiting on 
the pier for a lighter to take it to the transport and relieve the 
one on duty there already. Suddenly we heard piercing 
shrieks, mingled with Porto Rican oaths, and there appeared 
a boy of about ten or eleven years old, who was chased by a 
couple of men, one of whom kept up a fusilade of stones and 
execrations as he ran. The boy, who wore only a shirt and 
pants, fled screaming up the quay, and unhesitatingly plunged 
head-first off the pier and into the water. The men followed, 
and the same one coolly continued heaving rocks at the child 
in the water, and, had he been a good shot, would undoubtedly 
have killed him. 

"The boy was an expert swimmer, however, and, diving, 
came up again under the pier, where he clung to the piles in 
fear and trembling. Meanwhile the sentry had arrested the 
man, who still held a huge stone in his hand. All this had 
happened very quickly^ but not quickly enough to escape the 
eye of the Commander-in-Chief of the American army, whose 
headquarters were near the scene of action, and he now sent 
word to bring up all parties concerned. 

"Before the messenger arrived, however, I had scrambled 
down to help the boy, who was being buffeted by the waves 
and banged up against the very shelter he had sought. He 
had pulled off his little shirt, in case he had to swim for his 
life. The tears were streaming down his cheeks and his 
teeth were chattering with fear. He was the most miserable 
looking little object I ever saw. He tried to get further away 
from me at first, but by dint of repeating 'Americano' and 'not 
hurto you,' which was the nearest to Spanish I could get, I 
managed to get him to understand that I was a friend. Still 
he hesitated. 



Ne;lson a. Milks 399 

"Then I became inspired with a happy thought; I offered 
him three cents, all I had, and eventually he accepted the 
princely gift and my aid, and I got him up on deck again, 
just as the orderly from General Miles reached the pier. I 
had to go too as one of the parties 'concerned.' From what I 
had been led to infer, I expected I should find the General 
luxuriously and well housed, but what I found was a small, 
square room containing a small desk and two wooden chairs. 
The Commander-in-Chief of the United States army sat in one 
chair and the interpreter leaned gracefully on the back of 
another. The General chewed tobacco, and occasionally ex- 
pectorated out of the window behind which he was sitting. 
He wore a blue-silk negligee shirt, open at the throat, a leath- 
ern-belted pair of blue army trousers and a pair of boots. 
Hardly a 'dude,' eh ? 

ONE OF THE ARMY OF CHILDREN 

"The interpreter interrogated, and it seems that the poor 
little lad who had been nearly stoned to death was one of the 
large army of children who are not wise. They do not know 
their own fathers. The place is full of them. The man had 
made him work for nothing and stoned him besides. The boy 
had been sick and could not work, and the man had beaten 
him until he ran away, upon which he had followed him and 
thrown a 'few pebbles' at him. The man admitted he was 
notoriously bad-tempered, and said he had been a little hasty, 
perhaps. General Miles then gave him 'Hail Columbia,' and 
promised that he should have the opportunity of becoming 
more leisurely in future in a military prison if he ever again 
molested the boy. Then he inquired what Regiment I belonged 
to and told me to take the little fellow along and keep him at 
the Battery A quarters until we left. 

"This i did, the kid helping the cook and doing odd jobs, 
for which he received a few pennies, and apparently getting 



400 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

along happily. He disappeared shortly before we left, and I 
don't know what became of him. But the take-pot-luck man- 
ner in which General Miles was quartered, and the way he 
went about, and his lack of pomposity when addressing- me — a 
private — made an impression no amount of adverse criticism 
can ever efface." 

JOAQUIN MILLER 

STORIES OF THE POET OF THE SIERRAS 

^nr^HIS sketch of picturesque incidents concerning the Ore- 
-*- gon poet recently appeared in Outing: 

"Joaquin Miller is like one of the iDig trees' of his beloved 
Sierras, hale in his latter years, rugged, wind-swept and 
shaggy, a child of the woods, the rain, the sun and the moun- 
tains. He dwells in the green hills overlooking Oakland, 
across the bay from San Francisco, a little corner of the 
Pacific coast which also harbors *J^ck London,' another son of 
the out-of-doors. Joaquin Miller is sixty-five now and he has 
written twenty-odd books, but his blue eye is keen and his 
'spirit unabated,' while he lives the life of as picturesque a re- 
cluse as ever clung close to Nature's heart. A recent visitor 
thus described the home of the poet whom English critics once 
hailed as the greatest of American singers : 

" 'It is a hut of one room, before which are planted a row 
of young olive trees. Through the open door (it is always 
open), you look off across hills of vivid green, dotted with 
clumps of trees. Inside, the room is a veritable jumble. On 
one side are a couple of venerable bureaus with dusty mirrors 
and old-fashioned trimmings. Next is a table, beneath which 
may be glimpsed a huge dimijohn, facetiously labelled 'Radium.' 
On the other side of the room are hunter's traps, and the huge 
horns of an extinct Alaska gramnivora which, Joaquin told 
us, are ultimately destined for Dr. Jordan. Below are boxes. 



Joaquin Mili^er 401 

iron-bound, supposed to contain gold-dust, and all about the 
wall are pictures of poets, photographs, clippings from maga- 
zines, and letters from men of note, all tacked up hit or miss. 

" 'But the poet's couch is the feature of the place. It is a 
canopied affair, covered with the skins of various savage beasts, 
and with robes made of the hide of the buffalo. It is reclining 
on tliis couch that Joaquin is wont to receive his guests. When 
I saw him last, it was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon of 
a rainy day, but the poet had not yet risen, and apparently had 
no intention of doing so that day. He apologized to the ex- 
tent of quoting from another good gray poet : 'I loaf and in- 
vite my soul.' " 

"Joaquin works when the spirit moves, on his farm and 
garden, and has solved the problem of living without hurry 
and flurry after the dollars. He is like another Thoreau in this 
respect, but with the red blood and warm heart-beats which 
were wanting in the chilly and morbidly centred philosopher 
of New England. 

At the time of the Boxer outbreak in China five years ago, 
Joaquin Miller was lured from his fastness by the persuasions 
of a sensational newspaper and fared forth across the Pacific 
as a 'war-correspondent.' Just why this poet and man of sixty 
was chosen to mix up in the rough-and-tumble toil that needs 
young sinews and years of hard experience at the game is not 
wholly clear. 

"The writer ran across the Poet of the Sierras in Shanghai. 
In all that medley of Chinese, English, French, German and 
American exiles, turbanned Sikh police, and stocky Goorkha 
Regiments, there was no more picturesque figure than Joaquin 
Miller. His long hair, curling over his collar, the wide- 
brimmed slouch hat, the war-like trappings which smacked 
of the frontier rather than the allied army, were a delight to 
the guests of the Astor House Hotel. He looked like a picture 
torn from its native setting and thrust into an alien frame. 



402 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"He did not tarry long in the Orient, and his happiest da}^ 
in Shanghai was when he boarded ship for more congenial 
Japan and the home-stretch toward his beloved California." 

AN IDEAL HOSPITALITY 

The story of the coming of Yone Noguchi, the Japanese 
poet, to this country, and of his reception by Joaquin Miller, 
shows that the Japanese poets have some of the spirit and 
mettle of Japanese soldiers. 

Master Noguchi, at school near Tokyo, concluding, at four- 
teen years of age, that he wanted to see the world, sold his 
schoolbooks for sufficient yen to pay his runaway expenses to 
Tokyo, where he could join his brother. Tokyo he reached in 
safety, only to find that his brother had left there and gone to 
a town sixty miles distant. The young poet, having almost no 
money left, started bravely to walk the sixty miles, and, 
favored by weather and roads, he arrived there at nightfall of 
the third day. He went to the address given him as that of his 
brother, and found that the latter had, the day before, returned 
to Tokyo. Having but one piece of money left, he unhesitat- 
ingly divided it between a public bath and a theatre, and spent 
the night out-of-doors. The next morning he started to walk 
back to Tokyo. 

"But," he says naively, "I thought it would not be inter- 
esting to go back the way I came, so I take different road !" 

This road finally led him, by a journey of eighty miles, 
to his brother's home. 

When, a few years later, he decided to come to America, 
he collected his resources and arrived in San Francisco with 
$300. The first night that he was there he attended a meeting 
of Philippine sympathizers, was filled with enthusiasm, and 
laid down $100 as his share of the fund. At once his fellow- 
countrymen in San Francisco seeing this liberality, and need- 
ing shoes and shelter and other things, came to him with their 



John Pisrpont Morgan 403 

stories, and in three weeks he was penniless. He worked his 
way to Leland Stanford, there washed dishes and swept out 
recitation-rooms for six months' education, and finally, hearing 
of Joaquin Miller, he one day appeared at his door with his 
hands full of poems. 

"Mr. Miller was very good," he says modestly; "he look 
at my poems. He say 'Come in. Stay with me.' " 

Mr. Noguchi hved with Mr. Miller for six years. Later, 
when he went to London and was the guest of William Michael 
Rossetti, honored by Owen Seamen in Punch, and feted at 
some of the clubs on the appearance of the English edition of 
his poems, he said that he had never seen any hospitality 
greater than that "Come in. Stay with me." 

JOHN PIERPONT MORGAN 

AS AN ART GATHERER 

O AMUEL E. MOFFETT says of him : 

^^ "When he heard that a collection of thirty-two 'Cax- 
tons,' gathered by William Morris, was in the market, he 
bought it in a lump. That gave him more 'Caxtons' than were 
in the entire Hoe library, but Colonel Hoe had some individual 
specimens which he would not have exchanged for Mr. Mor- 
gan's whole collection. A man of Mr. Morgan's great intelli- 
gence, spending money as lavishly as he does, must gain posses- 
sion of many things of real value, but he is often deceived in 
his art purchases. Sometimes he buys a spurious article, as 
when he paid one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the 
so-called Gainsborough portrait of the Duchess of Devonshire. 
Sometimes he buys a good thing for an unnecessarily high 
price, as when he gave half a million dollars for Raphel's 
Madonna of Padua. Still, with all deductions, his collections 
are marvelous in extent, variety, and richness. His art gallery 
in New York City surpasses any other in America. His town 



404 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

and country houses in England are jewel caskets of art. 
Whenever he visits Europe he scatters coin among the dealers 
in books and pictures, — five thousand dollars for a mezzotint 
engraving, twenty-five thousand dollars for a Persian rug 
woven for an eighteenth-century Shah, the same for a psalter 
printed by Johann Faust and Peter Scheffer, thirty thousand 
dollars for a bronze statuette of Hercules, a million dollars 
for the Fragonard-Du Barry panels, and so on, ad infinitum. 
Mr. Morgan seems to regard himself and the public as part- 
ners in his art excursions. He pays a fortune for a book, a 
picture, or a collection of gems, ceramics, tapestries, or bronzes 
and he may put his purchase into one of his own galleries, in 
New York or London, or he may ofifer it to the Metropolitan 
Museum of Art, or the Cooper Union in New York City, 
or to some foreign museum, as the humor strikes him. He 
keeps treasures valued at two million, five hundred thousand 
dollars abroad as an object-lesson to his countrymen on the 
iniquity of the tariff duties on the works of art. When those 
duties shall be repealed it is expected that these things will 
come to America, where they will eventually find their way 
into public collections. 

"Mr. Morgan's function in the art world seems to be to 
keep things moving. He is incessantly buying art objects and 
as incessantly giving them away. The one thing he never does 
with them is to sell them. A few weeks ago he offered several 
thousand Burns manuscripts to the Athenaeum Library at 
Liverpool, He gave a two-hundred-thousand-dollar collec- 
tion of ancient textiles to Cooper Institute. He gave two of 
the rarest sapphires in the world to the American Museum 
of Natural Plistory. He gave the Pan-American collection of 
gems to the Miisee d' Histoire NafureJIe, Paris. He bought 
the famous Pfungst collection of bronzes for the Metropolitan 
Museum of Art. One day he telephoned to the curator of that 
institution, General di Cesnola, and asked if he could not find 



SamueIv F. B. Morse: 405 

time to call at his office. General di Cesnola explained that he 
was extremely busy, and asked whether the next day would 
not do as well. 'Certainly,' responded the voice at the tele- 
phone; 'any time this summer will do. I only want to give 
you an assortment of Greek jewels for the museum.' That 
collection was known to the curator as one of the rarest in 
the world, worth a trifle of two hundred thousand dollars. 
He decided that he could find time to go after it that day." 

MORGAN AND THE REPORTER 

Mr. Morgan is six feet tall, burly, and fond of good living. 
He has no use for reporters as such, although he likes to talk to 
some of them as friends. A certain New York newspaper man, 
a connoisseur in books and art, is on intimate terms with Mr.' 
Morgan the collector, though he has no acquaintance with Mr. 
Morgan the banker. One day, when Wall Street was seething 
with sensations, this reporter's employers tried to take advant- 
age of his friendship for the art amateur to secure an inter- 
view on financial matters. At the first question Mr. Morgan 
lay back in his chair and roared with laughter. "Why," he 
said, "your city editor must be a fool to expect me to talk to 
you on business. You don't know anything about it. If you 
want to discuss books and art, I'll be glad to talk with you all 
day, but tell your city editor that, if he wants to get anything 
out of me about business, he'll have to send a man that under- 
stands it." Of course, when the man who understood business 
arrived, he did not get past the doorkeeper. 

SAMUEL F. B. MORSE 

HIS VISIT TO BENJAMIN WEST 

'I TN his early life, when he went to London to study painting, 
i -*- young Morse paid a visit to Benjamin West, the great 
American painter, who was at that time painting exclusively 



4o6 CAriTAi, Stories About Famous Americans 

for the King, George III., and was at work on a portrait of the 
monarch. IVir. Morse relates the story as follows : 

"I called upon Mr. West, at his house in Newman Street, 
one morning, and in conformity with the order given to his 
servant Robert, always to admit Mr. Leslie and myself, even if 
he was engaged in his private studies, I was shown into his 
studio. As I entered, a half-length portrait of George III. 
stood before me upon an easel and Mr. West was sitting with 
his back toward me, copying from it upon canvas. My name 
having been mentioned to him, he did not turn, but, pointing 
with the pencil he had in his hand to the portrait from which 
he was copying, he said : 

" 'Do you see that picture, Mr. Morse ?' 

" 'Yes, sir,' I said; 'I perceive it is the portrait of the King.' 

" 'Well,' said Mr. West, 'the King was sitting to me for 
that portrait when the box containing the American Declara- 
tion of Independence was handed to him.' 

" 'Indeed,' I answered ; 'and what appeared to be the 
emotions of the King ? what did he say ?' 

" 'Well, sir,' said Mr. West, 'he made a reply characteristic 
of the goodness of his heart,' or words to that effect. 'Well, 
if they can be happier under the government they have chosen, 
than under mine, I shall be happy.' " 

AN INTERESTING STUDENT EXPERIENCE 

Some time later West consented to give Morse some in- 
structions in drawing. Anxious to appear in the most favora- 
ble light before West, he had occupied himself for two weeks 
in making a finished drawing from a small cast of the Farnese 
Hercules. Mr. West, after strict scrutiny for some minutes, 
and giving the )^oung artist many commendations, handed it 
again to him, saying, "Very well, sir, very well; go on and 
finish it." 

"It is finished," replied Morse. 




GEORGE B. CORTELYOU 

WILLIAM J. BRYAN 
HENRY G. DAVIS 



ALTON BROOKS PARKER 
JOSEPH WINGATE FOLK 

IRVING BACHELLER 



Samuei. F. B. Morse 409 

"OH, no," said Mr. West ; "look here, and here, and here;' 
pointing to many unfinished places which had escaped the un- 
tutored eye of the young student. No sooner were they pointed 
out, however, than they were felt, and a week longer was de- 
voted to a more careful finishing of the drawing, until, full of 
confidence, he again presented it to the critical eyes of West. 
Still more encouraging and flattering expressions were lavished 
upon the drawing, but on returning it the advice was again 
given, "Very well, indeed, sir; go on and finish it," 

"Is it not finished?" asked Morse, almost discouraged. 

"Not yet," replied West; "see, you have not marked that 
muscle, nor the articulations of the finger-joints." 

Determined not to be answered by the constant "Go and fin- 
ish it" of Mr. West, Morse again diligently spent three or four 
days retouching and renewing his drawing, resolved, if possi- 
ble, to elicit from his severe critic an acknowledgment that it 
was at length finished. He was not, however, more successful 
than before ; the drawing was acknowledged to be exceedingly 
good, "very clever, indeed ;" but all its praises were closed by 
the repetition of the advice, "Well, sir, go and finish it." 

"I cannot finish it," said Morse, almost in despair. 

"Well," answered West, "I have tried you long enough. 
Now, sir, you have learned more by this drawing than you 
would have accomplished in double the time by a dozen half- 
finished beginnings. It is not numerous drawings, but the 
character of one, which makes a thorough draughtsman. Fin- 
ish one picture, sir, and you are a painter." 

When Mr. West was painting his Christ Rejected, Morse 
calling on him, the old gentleman began a critical examination 
of his hands, and at length said, "Let me tie you with this cord, 
and take that place while I paint in the hands of our Saviour." 
Morse of course complied ; West finished his work, and releas- 
ing him said, "You may say now, if you please, you had a. 
hand in this picture." 



410 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

MORSE'S DAY OF POVERTY 

General Strother, of Virginia, in one of his pen-pictures 
shows the straits of poverty to which Morse was sometimes re- 
duced before he made his great discovery which was to bring 
him fame and wealth. He writes : 

"I engaged to become Morse's pupil, and subsequently 
went to New York and found him in a room in University 
Place. He had three other pupils, and I soon found that our 
professor had very little patronage. I paid my fifty dollars ; 
that settled for one quarter's instruction. Morse was a faithful 
teacher, and took as much interest in our progress as — more, 
indeed, than — we did ourselves. But he was very poor. I 
remember that when my second quarter's pay was due my re- 
mittance from home did not come as expected, and one day 
the professor came in, and said, courteously : 

" 'Well, Strother, my boy, how are we off for money ?' 

" 'Why, professor,' I answered, 'I am sorry to say I have 
been disappointed ; but I expect a remittance next week.' 

" 'Next week!' he repeated, sadly; 'I shall be dead by that 
time.' 

"'Dead, sir?' 

" 'Yes, dead by starvation !' 

"I was distressed and astonished. I said, hurriedly: 

" 'Would ten dollars be of any service ?' 

" 'Ten dollars would save my life; that is all it would do.' 

"I paid the money, all that I had, and we dined together. 
It was a modest meal, but good, and, after he had finished, he 
said : 

" 'This is my first meal for twenty-four hours. Strother, 
don't be an artist. It means beggary. Your life depends 
upon people who know nothing of your art, and care nothing 
for you. A house-dog lives better, and the very sensitiveness 
that stimulates an artist to work, keeps him alive to suffering.' 

"I remained with Professor Morse three years, and then 



Samue;i. F. B. Morse 411 

we separated. Some time afterward I met him on Broadway, 
one day. He was about the same as before, a trifle older, and 
somewhat ruddier. I asked him how he was getting along 
with his painting, and he told me that he had abandoned it; 
that he had something better, he believed; and told me about 
the proposed telegraph. I accompanied him to his room, and 
there found several miles of wire twisted about, and the bat- 
tery, which he explained to me. His pictures, finished and un- 
finished, were lying about covered with dust. Shortly after- 
ward Congress made an appropriation, and Morse was on the 
high-road to wealth and immortality." 

THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DAY 

That was a trying day for Morse when the bill granting 
an appropriation to make a test of his great invention hung 
in the balance in the United States Senate. 

In the gallery of the Senate Professor Morse had sat all 
the last day and evening of the session. At midnight the 
session would close. Assured by his friends that there was no 
possibility of the bill being reached, he left the Capitol and re- 
tired to his room at the hotel, dispirited, and wellnigh broken- 
hearted. As he came down to breakfast the next morning, a 
young lady entered, and, coming toward him with a smile, 
exclaimed : 

"I have come to congratulate you !" 

"For what, my dear friend?" asked the Professor, of the 
young lady, who was Miss Annie G. Ellsworth, daughter of 
his friend the Commissioner of Patents. 

"On the passage of your bill." 

The Professor assured her it was not possible, as he re- 
mained in the Senate-Chamber until nearly midnight, and it 
was not reached. She then informed him that her father was 
present until the close, and, in the last moments of the session, 
the bill was passed without debate or division. Professor 



412 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

Morse was overcome by the intelligence, so joyful and unex- 
pected, and gave at the moment to his young friend, the bearer 
of these good tidings, the promise that she should send the first 
message over the first line of telegraph that was opened. 

THE MAID WHO WANTED TO BE SENT BY TELEGRAPH 

The most amusing incidents are related in the early history 
of the electric telegraph. Many of the published incidents are 
undoubtedly fictitious, inventions of those who are fond of 
extracting amusement from the gravest events. Among those 
preserved by Professor Morse himself, and therefore worthy 
of being credited, is the following : 

A pretty little girl tripped into the Washington City termi- 
nal, and, after a great deal of hesitation and blushing, asked 
how long it would "take to send to Baltimore?" The interest- 
ing appearance of the little questioner attracted Mr. Morse's 
attention, and he very blandly replied, "One second." 

"Oh, how delightful, how delightful!" ejaculated the little 
beauty, her eyes glistening with delight. "One second, only — 
here, send this even quicker, if you can." And Mr. Morse 
found in his hand a neatly-folded, gilt-edged note, the very 
perfume and shape of which told a volume of love. 

"I cannot send this note," said Mr. Morse, with some feel- 
ing; "it is impossible." 

"Oh, do, do!" implored the distracted girl; "William and 
I have had a quarrel, and I shall die if he don't know that I 
forgive him in a second — I know I shall." 

Mr. Morse still objected to sending the note, when the fair 
one, brightening up, asked, "You will then send me on, won't 
you ?" 

"Perhaps," said one of the clerks, "it would take your 
breath away to travel forty miles in a second !" 

"Oh, no, it won't — no, it won't, if it carries me to William! 
The cars in the morning go so slozv I can't wait for them." 



Bill Nys 413 

Mr. Morse now comprehended the mistake which the peti- 
tioner was laboring under, and attempted to explain the pro- 
cess of conveying important information along the wires. The 
letter-writer listened a few moments impatiently, and then 
rolled her burning epistle into a ball, in the excitement under 
which she labored, and thrust it into her bosom, 

"It's too slow," she finally exclaimed, "it's too slow, and 
my heart will break before William knows I forgive him ; and 
you are a cruel man, Mr, Morse," said the fair creature, the 
tears coming into her eyes, "that you won't let me travel 
by the telegraph to see William," And full of emotion she left 
the office, illustrating the truth of the poet's wish — 
"Annihilate but space and time, 
And make two lovers happy," 

BILL NYE 

BEATING THE WIZARD AT HIS OWN GAME 

"TT7HEN Bill Nye, in collaboration with James Whitcomb 
^ ^ Riley, was touring the country as a lecturer, he stopped 
at a well-known Chicago hostelry, one evening, and was es- 
corted to a place in the big dining-room directly across the 
table from a dark gentleman with heavy, black mustachios,. 
and a Mephistophelian goatee, Nye recognized his vis-a-vis 
as Hermann, the magician, but, beyond a quizzical stare,, 
gave no sign that he knew the eminent prestidigitator, Her- 
mann was very well aware that the bald man opposite him 
was Bill Nye, but did not indicate his recognition by word 
or manner, Hermann had, in fact, prepared a little surprise 
for the humorist, and several others seated at the table were 
in the secret, 

Nye was about to lance a leaf from his salad, when he 
espied, lying beneath it, a superb and scintillant diamond, set 
in a very fine gold ring. Without showing the least surprise. 



414 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

he lifted the ring from the salad bowl, slipped it on his finger, 
conscious all the while that every eye was upon him, and, turn- 
ing to Riley, who sat next to him, remarked, with his dry, 
inimitable drawl: 

"Strange, how careless I am getting to be in my old age, 
James. I am forever leaving my jewels in the most unlikely 
places." 

Hermann was dumfounded at the sudden manner in which 
his trick had miscarried, but he was destined for a still greater 
shock ; for, when the darky waiter who presided over the table 
brought on the next course, Nye turned to him and, soberly 
handing him the gem-set ring, said : 

"You are a very good waiter, Joe." 

"Yes, sah. I guess I is, sah." 

"And you always will be a real good waiter, Joe?" 

"Yes, sah. I'm boun' ter do ma best, sah." 

"I believe you, Joe. I believe you ; and, as an evidence of 
my faith in you, I want you to accept this little trifle. Wear it, 
and always remember the man who most appreciated your 
services." 

The darky's eyes bulged. Hermann's fork rattled to the 
floor, and he tugged at his great mustachios, but was far too 
clever to cut in with an explanation at such an inopportune mo- 
ment. There were half-suppressed titters all around the board 
during the rest of the meal, which the professor of occult art 
did not appear to enjoy. At a late hour that night, Hermann 
was heard in loud argument with the dusky recipient of the 
diamond ring, trying, in two languages, to convince him that 
it was all a joke on the part of Mr. Nye. Finally, after dis- 
bursing a tip of more than customary liberality, Hermann 
got back his ring. He afterwards avowed the stone alone was 
worth two thousand dollars, and that Bill Nye's nonchalant 
presentation of it to a grinning menial had spoiled a whole 
evening's performance in legerdemain. 



Alton Brooks Parke;r 415 

WILLIAM OSLER 

TAKING A PRESCRIPTION LITERALLY 

T^R. WILLIAM OSLER, formerly of Johns Hopkins, now 
■*-^ regius professor of medicine at Oxford, was talking, 
during his recent Canadian tour, about the importance of pre- 
cision in the writing of prescriptions. 

"Wherever a sentence may have two meanings," said Dr. 
Osier, "rest assured that the wrong meaning will be taken. 
Hence, it is important in prescription writing and in directions 
to patients that the greatest clarity and precision be obtained. 

"A young foreigner one day visited a physician and de- 
scribed a common malady that had befallen him. 

" 'The thing for you to do,' the physician said, 'is to drink 
hot water an hour before breakfast every morning.' 

" 'Write it down, doctor, so I won't forget it,' said the 
patient. 

"Accordingly the physician wrote the directions down — 
namely, that the young man was to drink hot water an hour 
before breakfast every morning. 

"The patient took his leave, and in a week he returned. 

" 'Well, how are you feeling?' the physician asked. 

" 'Worse, doctor, worse, if anything,' was the reply. 

" 'Ahem. Did you follow my advice and drink hot water 
an hour before breakfast?' 

" 'I did my best, sir,' said the young man, 'but I couldn't 
keep it up more'n ten minutes at a stretch.' " 

ALTON BROOKS PARKER 

RED-HAIRED PRESIDENTS 

DURING the last Presidential campaign Judge Alton B. 
Parker was chatting with an auburn-haired visitor on 
his veranda at Rosemount. Naturally, the conversation turned 



4i6 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

to the subject of red hair, which is a characteristic of the 
Parker family. 

"When I was your age," said the Judge to his guest, "my 
hair was redder than yours, — it was fiery red, in fact, and, in 
consequence, my fighting instincts were over-developed while 
I was in school. In the country district where I learned my 
'three R's,' it happened that T was the only red-haired youth. 
When I first attended school the boys had a good deal of fun 
shouting 'sorrel' and 'red-top.' It never failed to rouse my 
fighting blood, and I lived a strenuous life." 

"But you wouldn't have changed the color of your hair, 
would you?" asked the visitor, blandly. 

"No, indeed," said the Judge; "red hair is all right. My 
daughter has it, and my little grandson there is as red as he can 
be. They say it is a sign of a high temper, but it is also a sign 
of numerous excellent qualities." 

"We've had two red-haired Presidents," said the visitor, — 
"Jefferson, and Jackson, and they were both Democrats." 

"That's true," said the Judge, "and don't you think it's 
about time we had a third ?" 

THE JUDGE WAS FORGIVING 

Judge Alton B. Parker, the Democratic candidate for Presi- 
dent in the last election, is now busy practicing law in New 
York City. In the big skyscraper building on Nassau Street, 
where his offices are located, he is known to every one of the 
hundreds of tenants because of his very afifable disposition. 
In his attitude toward human nature the Judge is a decided 
optimist. He invariably looks for the good qualities in a man 
rather than for the bad. Even when he personally is done a 
direct injury by somebody he is able to take an entirely imper- 
sonal view of the matter, and is quick to find excuses for the 
man. His mind does not seem capable of retaining, for any 
length of time, feelings of restraint. 



Robert E. Pe;ary 417 

"I remember once, when we were preparing for a reception 
at Rosemount to the prominent people of the community, that 
Mrs. Parker noticed on the invitation list the name of a certain 
man," said Arthur McCausland, the Judge's private secretary. 

" 'I hope you are not going to have that individual in the 
house,' she remarked, quickly, to the Judge : 'surely you havn't 
forgotten how he tried to injure you.' 

" 'Well, now, it did escape my memory when I was glanc- 
ing over that list,' exclaimed Mr, Parker; 'but what of it? He 
doubtless thought he was right. Let him come, if he wants to.' 

" 'I simply couldn't be polite to him,' remarked Mrs. 
Parker. 

"The matter worried the Judge. 'It would look pretty 
marked ; it would seem as if I were harboring resentment, 
wouldn't it,' he said to me, 'if we didn't invite him?' 

"I replied that I thought it would. 'Well,' he answered, 
'I dislike that sort of thing. Send him an invitation. I know 
that, if he comes, Mrs. Parker will relent.' " 

ROBERT E. PEARY 

HOW HE BECAME AN ARCTIC EXPLORER 

OTURGIS B. RAND, in an instructive article in McClnre's 
^ Magadne, recounts this story of how Peary came to be 
an Arctic explorer. He says : 

"Up to the time of his return from Nicaragua, in 1885, the 
idea of Arctic exploration had never occurred to him. But 
the soil was now ripe and the seed was ready. 

" 'One evening,' he writes, 'in one of my favorite haunts, 
an old book-store in Washington, I came upon a fugitive paper 
on the Inland Ice of Greenland. A chord, which as a boy had 
vibrated intensely in me at the reading of Kane's wonderful 
book, was touched again. I read all I could upon the subject, 
noted the conflicting experiences of Nordenskjold, Jensen, and 



4i8 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

the rest, and felt that I must see for myself what the truth 
was of this great mysterious interior.' 

"At that time no one had ever attempted to explore the 
vast unknown interior of Greenland : no one knew whether 
Greenland was an island or a part of a great polar continent. 
Peary outlined a plan for an expedition in a paper read before 
the National Academy of Sciences, but it is characteristic of 
him that he should go forward on his own responsibility and 
execute his own plans. Having obtained a leave of absence 
from the Navy Department, he left for Greenland in May, 
1886. Though the expedition was intended only as a pre- 
liminary reconnoissance, Peary succeeded in penetrating more 
than one hundred miles, for the first time reaching the real 
interior plateau of unchanging arctic snow. Indeed, no white 
man had ever before attained so great an elevation on the 
Greenland ice, and none had penetrated so far into the interior. 
This reconnoissance, though brief, for Peary was absent from 
Washington barely six months, added much to the world's 
knowledge, besides enabling Peary to outline practical plans 
for future explorations, with suggested routes for crossing 
Greenland. 

"Peary was not, however, destined to follow out immedi- 
ately his plans for further exploration. Indeed, he was to 
suffer the bitter regret of seeing his work forestalled, his plans 
carried out by another — for two years later Greenland was 
crossed for the first time by Nansen. Interest in the Nicaragua 
Canal having now revived, Peary devoted nearly two years 
as engineer in charge of the surveys, after which he was 
sent (in 1888) to superintend the building of the new dry 
dock at League Island Navy Yard in Philadelphia. In this 
year he married Miss Josephine Diebitsch, who was to exercise 
an important influence upon his future work. In all this time 
his projects for further arctic exploration employed every 
brief interval of leisure in his exacting navy work; he was 



Robert E. Peary 419 

studying the questions of equipment and transportation, which 
really determine the success of every expedition. 

"At last he was ready for a serious and extended expedi- 
tion. Perhaps no man who ever sailed the polar seas was more 
thoroughly prepared in every respect. The first and most im- 
portant of an arctic explorer's equipment is his own physical 
strength and health. In the very prime of life, Peary was 
as perfect physically as it is ever given to a man to be. Always 
a prodigious worker, no excesses had impaired his strength. 
The first time I saw him he reminded me strongly of the young 
Sioux braves of the Northwest. Standing more than six feet 
tall, he had the Indian swiftness, softness, and lightness of 
step ; slender, he had the Indian bigness of chest and suggested 
'wind,' and the leanness of flank of the Indian runner. With- 
out giving an impression of special strength, he was all muscle 
and sinew, unencumbered by an ounce of superfluous weight. 
Peary had the typical grey eyes of the sure-shooting Western 
plainsman ; a high, fine forehead, and a determined chin. He 
impressed me, and I find he impresses most people, as a man 
of few words, and these singularly well chosen. He knew just 
what he wanted, and went about getting it briskly. Peary 
has that rare possession of favored men of action, and appar- 
ently boundless reserve force. Dr. Frederick Cook, the sur- 
geon of two of his expeditions, told me that Peary's endur- 
ance always seemed endless. The accounts of his expeditions 
contain many instances in which, after all the other men were 
-completely exhausted and disheartened, the strength and nerv- 
ous energy of their leader seemed to lift up and carry for- 
ward the whole burden of the work, to inspire and enliven the 
weary men and make impossibility possible. His spirit of in- 
domitability, the capacity for effort beyond the strength and 
courage of other men, are the unmistakable qualities of the great 
leader; such a spirit is only piqued by danger. T think,' said a 
member of one of his parties, 'he loved to meet emergencies.' " 



420 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

A STORY OF ARCTIC HEROISM 

Mr. Rand tells a story which stirs the blood, of the heroic 
struggle which Peary made against almost insurmountable 
obstacles in 1895 • 

"From the very beginning, misfortunes followed one an- 
other thick and fast. A cache of all but indispensable pemmi- 
can, 1,400 pounds in all, could not be found, and, though its 
lack threatened starvation, still they went forward — three men, 
forty-two dogs, and five sledges. Lee fell ill, leaving all the 
work to the other men, besides delaying the march. Often, 
indeed, they dragged Lee on the sledges. The dogs fought, 
tangled the harness, and one went mad ; they had to abandon 
one sledge after another, they ate raw frozen meat warmed a 
little in their tea. Presently the men were denying themselves, 
to make the walrus meat last for the dogs; then the dogs one 
after another were consumed. And still their faces were set 
toward the north. Five hundred miles from their home camp, 
with eleven all but useless dogs and a sick companion, their 
very life now depended on finding the musk-oxen which 
Peary had seen on the open shore three years previously, and 
on their ability when found to kill the quarry. Peary's story 
of that awful hunting trip is one of the most thrilling in all the 
annals of bold deeds. Thirty miles from the open country of 
Independence Bay, Lee, now unable to travel farther, was left 
in camp with a share of the remaining provisions. Peary and 
Henson, with one light sledge and the strongest dogs, rushed 
forward. The rocks of the open ground played havoc with 
the sledge, so that the men were often forced to help the dogs ; 
their feet-covering was cut and worn ; their food disappeared 
rapidly, and still no game. Suddenly Peary, who was in ad- 
vance, beckoned Henson to bring the gun. Fastening the dogs 
to a stake, the negro crept up, quivering with excitement. 
Peary pointed silently to an arctic hare, but being overcome 
^with hunger, he directed Henson to shoot. Henson was him- 



Robe;rt E. Peary 421 

self so weak that, though he lay down and took a dead rest, 
he missed ; a second bullet killed the game. Henson ran back 
to get the lamp for cooking, but the hunger of the men could 
not be curbed ; seizing the animal, they devoured it raw. 

"Then they hunted again to the very verge of desperation, 
and when at last they suddenly saw a fine herd of musk-oxen 
they were too unnerved at first to fire. Then they rushed for- 
ward and began shooting half blindly. Peary says he could 
not see his sights, but felt his aim. They killed their prey. 

"The finding of the musk-oxen saved them, but more terri- 
ble experiences were yet to come. Peary was set on going 
northward toward the Pole. He had reached a latitude of 
eighty-one degrees forty-seven minutes, ten miles farther 
north than he had gone before. Not many miles farther on, 
and he would have reached the farthest north. Had he 
secured the alcohol and pemmican of that last cache, he could 
have continued his journey safely and easily. He stood upon 
the brink of the rocks and looked down and out over the sea of 
ice before him. It was smooth and inviting; the dogs could 
have made fast time; perhaps the Pole itself might have been 
reached. For ten years he had struggled to reach the farthest 
north, and now, when he had almost achieved it, he was obliged 
to beat a retreat. Sadly he turned back, and began the grim, 
terrible march to the southward. They threw away their bed- 
ding, instruments, guns, ammunition, extra clothing, a prayer- 
book, the tent itself — in fact, everything that might impede 
them in their struggle for life. They even tore from their 
nautical almanac the three leaves containing the calculations 
then required, and discarded the remainder. They had started 
with forty-two dogs and five sledges ; now they had one sledge 
and two dogs. For five days they subsisted on a few biscuits 
and a little tea. They killed one dog and ate him, giving the re- 
maining dog a share. At length the last morsel of food was 
consumed, and the home camp was still twenty miles away. 



422 Capital Storie;s About Famous Americans 

"And they were constantly haunted by the terrible fear that 
the Eskimos might have played false, looted the camp, and left 
them to certain starvation. Two days of this starvation, and at 
last they arrived, three gaunt men, with a single emaciated 
dog creeping along a mile behind. To their unspeakable joy, 
the stores were intact. 

"For days they lay and rested, scarcely able to move, sick- 
ened by the food they ate, bleeding at the nose, their legs 
swollen to twice their natural size. The dog gave himself 
up to eating and sleeping and to hiding food away. For weeks 
he buried everything that resembled food during his waking 
hours, as if remembering his terrible experiences, he had de- 
termined to cache a store of provisions that would last him for 
the rest of his days. There they remained, weak, miserable, 
all but hopeless, until the arrival of the relief party organized 
by the energy of Mrs. Peary, who had succeeded in interesting 
a number of wealthy men in her husband's work. Without the 
courageous assistance and constant encouragement of his wife, 
the explorer never could have accomplished what he has." 

A WIFE'S DEVOTED HEROISM 

Camillus Phillips told in Success, in May, 1902, a story of 
wifely devotion and heroism unsurpassed. It is the story of 
how, when Peary returned from his fearful experiences of 
1895, he was sick — sick at heart, disappointed, discouraged. 
To the world that greeted him, he showed a front brave and 
unchanged. He spoke of his explorations; and, sometimes, 
he touched upon their dangers and their toils. But when he 
was alone with his wife, his voice turned sad, and his mein was 
downcast. To be a Polar explorer is usually to win or to die. 
He had neither won nor died. He was merely a beaten man. 
Day after day, when they were alone together, the wife heard, 
from lips that had never before syllabled a weakness, the 
dejected words: 



Robert E. P£;ary 423 

"I am a failure !" She suffered, as he suffered. She tried 
the means which loving wives employ to reconcile a man to 
sore discomfiture. Diversion, amusement, consolation, — all 
failed. Days passed, with the friends about him ignorant of 
the blight that lay upon his soul; the nights came, and, with 
them, to the ears of the faithful wife there came the un- 
changing words in the unchanged, morbid tones : 
"Josephine, I am a failure ; a complete failure." 
Sometimes he spoke of 'Ahnighito,' the immense meteorite 
that lay amid the Greenland snows. It seemed as if, in a half 
idle, half-yearning fashion, he might have wished that he 
could bring it to his country. If only he were the man he used 
to be, before the frozen hell of the cruel North chilled his 
life blood! 

HIS WIFE'S COURAGE NERVED HIM TO FURTHER ACTION 

The months went by ; and the woman who loved the broken, 
hopeless man, — and who, alone, of all the world about him, 
knew his wretchedness, — resolved upon a great experiment. 
She consulted no physician ; she experienced none of the loving 
apprehensions that go thronging to the hearts of women who 
set those they love afresh on dangerous quests. She only 
knew that the man whose fortunes she shared was changed 
from his former self; that all his future seemed to lay before 
him in drear and wasted years ; and that, for him, life must be 
action, and achievement, or else it would be no life at all. 

They were in Brooklyn, in May, 1897, when, looking into 
the eyes that seemed always to say to her those four disheart- 
ened words, she pressed her lips together with the firmness 
of a set purpose, smiled her old inspiring smile, and said : 

"How would you Hke to bring back your big meteorite?" 

For the first time since his return, Peary's eyes flashed in 
response ; and his lips set in the line they wear when difficulties 
arise that must be conquered. 



424 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"I could do it!" he exclaimed. "Will you go with me?" 

The answer rose, joyfully, from her very heart: 

"I will." 

"Then," said Peary, "I'll bring it !" 

Thenceforward, he was a man transformed. Her divina- 
tion, born of wifely love, was marvelous in its results. Peary 
forgot that he was a failure; he forgot his major ambition, the 
search for the North Pole ; he remembered nothing except the 
fact that there was something left for him to accomplish. His 
former energy was completely at his command ; his spirit 
flashed as of old, glowing and strong. Within two months, 
out of no resources, he had contrived to organize a party ; he 
had secured the funds, and the brave ship Hope was on her 
northward way. On October 2, 1897, the navy department of 
the United States having put at the explorer's disposal the 
great crane of the New York navy yard, the meteorite was 
raised from the hold of the Hope and deposited upon the quay 
wall, the most magnificent contribution to the science of 
meteorology an American has given. 

Medals were bestowed then, and many other honors. The 
Royal Geographical Society of Great Britain, and the Royal 
Scottish Society, found the conquerer of the hitherto uncon- 
querable "Ahnighito" worthy of their highest awards. The 
world, that had seemed a thing apart from future struggles, 
offered praise and admiration ; and Josephine, the wife, had by 
her side the husband as she knew him before, full of fresh 
hope, of new courage, and of plans for future deeds which 
should lead to final triumph. 

HER ENTHUSIASTIC ZEAL STARTED THE ARCTIC CLUB 

The Peary who was to attempt the greatest deed of his 
career was made in those encouraging days. The ambition to 
reach the North Pole — ever nascent, never born, — sprang into 
full being. His whole mind was taken up with this resolve. 




tUGENE FIELD 

EDWIN BOOTH 
JOHN KENDRICK BANGS 



JOSEPH JEFFERSON 
JOAQUIN MILLER 

PHINEAS T. BARNUM 



Robert E. Peary 427 

Again the means were lacking, — the means had always 
been lacking. He had given all that he possessed. She had 
given all that she owned. He consulted her; and, for a time, 
they lived like two people wrecked amid civilization, and plan- 
ning for escape into frozen deserts. Meanwhile, a government 
that could appreciate a good man gave him a five-year leave 
to immolate himself upon the icy altar of science and the 
fiery throne of ambition. But the government which could 
spare the man would not spare the money, — and much money 
was needed for this final, great essay. 

"Robert," she said to him, at length, "there is only one way. 
If we appeal to the scientific societies, the contributions will 
come dribbling. Before there is enough for your expedition, 
your leave will have expired. Let us do the rich men of our 
country the honor that belongs to them. Go to the millionaires, 
— to those Americans who, holding fortunes and loving splen- 
did enterprises, will give a thousand, where others loan a dollar 
and grudge it as they loan it." 

Her words were the germ of the Arctic Club, almost in- 
stantly organized, and comprising in its membership less than 
a score of wealthy men who undertook, with a fine magnan- 
imity, to bear the expense of the polar expedition, and to ask 
no reward beyond the pleasure of aiding in a worthy cause. 
Preparations were made with the swift perfection which ample 
resources give. On July 3, 1898, in New York City, Peary and 
his wife parted. The midnight train bore him to Boston, and 
so on to Sidney, Cape Breton, whence he was to sail four days 
afterwards. Another midnight train took her to Washington. 

They bade each other farewell as lovers say good-by who 
may not meet again. And yet they hoped they were to meet 
again, for she had promised to go to Payer Harbor, and greet 
him there, only two miles below Cape Sabine, where Greely's 
party battled against hunger until starvation stretched them on 
the snow,— skeletons, gaunt and stark. Neither of them knew 



428 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

the terrible misunderstanding that they, in their haste, had 
caused. She believed she was to be at Payer Harbor in the 
year 1900, He believed she was to reach him there in 
1899. That error meant that he, for one long, bitter year, 
was to carry on his mission, to fulfill his pledges to his patrons, 
to labor heart and soul against the unvanquisbed forces of 
Nature in her grimmest mood, while heart and soul within him 
should be torn with anxiety that would often be near despair. 
Meanwhile, how was it with her? 

In July, 1900, the Windward sailed for Payer Harbor, 
bearing the faithful wife, and the provisions and supplies that 
were needed in the desert, empty North. A month elapsed, 
the harbor held the dead memories of the men whom cruel 
Greenland had claimed so long before, and the living woman, 
with her remembrance of the husband she so longed to see, — 
but he was missing. 

Stanch of spirit, unfaltering in the fulfillment of his pledge, 
Peary was at Fort Conger, two hundred and fifty miles to the 
northward, killing musk-oxen, cacheing the meat, and carrying 
tea, sugar, pemmican, alcohol, and buscuit as close to the pole 
as lay within his power, in anticipation of the dash northward 
that he was to make in 1901. Once more his wife could only 
wait and hope. 

SHE WAS LEFT ALONE IN COMMAND OF THE "WINDWARD" 

She took complete charge of the IVindivard and its stores. 
The natives were attracted to her, and she traded with them, 
and gathered, in expectation of her husband's return, a huge 
store of ivory, sealskins, and walrus meat. When she found, 
among the weaklings of the Greenland "Highlanders," whom 
her husband had left behind him, some natives with sparks of 
daring in them, she hired them to make expeditions to Fort 
Conger, on the chance that some of them might reach him. 
But the snows were deep, and the natives were liars. They 



Robert E. Phary 429 

took her gifts and returned, saying that no traveler could make 
the awful journey. There was a fireman on the IVindzvard — 
a Newfoundlander named Billy, — who had implored her to let 
him try his hand at the exploration. At length, she let him go, 
with three natives and three sledges, while she waited, trading 
and watching, watching and trading. Days went by, and weeks 
wore on, yet no longed-for word came of him. 

On the night of the fifth of May, 1901, with the old anguish 
of anxiety upon her mind, she lay down on her couch to sleep, 
in the cabin of the Windivard, as she had lain down to sleep 
nine years before in the cabin of the Kite, anchored in Mc- 
Cormick Bay. Sleep came to her, and dreams ; and the hours 
flitted by until, had she been at her home in Washington, the 
accurate observatory would have fixed the time at three o'clock. 
Near her, in an adjoining cabin, slept her maid, Martha, and 
the ship's cook, Charley, who was Martha's husband. 

Crash ! came the thud of heels on the deck above her. She 
was awake and up, in a flash of joyous recollection. 

"Charley! Charley!" she called; "open the door, — Mr. 
Peary wants to come in !"' 

"Ma'am!" exclaimed the man, half dazed with sleep and 
astonishment, and believing she had gone mad in her anxiety 
in watching for her husband, 

"Open it, — open it, I say!" she reiterated; "Mr. Peary is 
there, waiting for me !" 

Before his clinched hand could strike the panels of the 
cabin door, it swung ajar and Peary felt around his neck the 
arms of his delighted wife. He had met Billy, the Newfound- 
lander, amid the waste of snows, and had hurried southward 
to give his wife a glad surprise. But even he, mere man that 
he was, could not know that, waking or sleeping, a loving 
woman's heart answers to the echo of a loved one's tread more 
swiftly than feet can run, or voice carry, or thought pass from 
eye to mind. 



430 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 
WENDELL PHILUPS 

A REFORMER'S BIRTH 

TT was the day of the Broadcloth mob in Boston — 
-*- While seated by his study-window in Court Street, the 
young Boston lawyer, glancing up from the pages of his book, 
and out into the thoroughfare, caught sight of an assembling 
crowd of people. Men were hurrying toward the City Hall 
as fast as their feet could carry them ; children were shouting 
at the top of their voices; and occasionally a woman would 
turn back, such was her curiosity. What did it signify? 

His own curiosity prompted him to forsake his book, and 
to go out into the street. With hurried strides he wended his 
way towards the City Hall. There he saw a thousand men, 
clad in broadcloth and all the other paraphernalia of respecta- 
bility, dragging a man with a rope around his waist. 

"Who is that man ?" he inquried. 

"William Lloyd Garrison," was the reply of a bystander. 

At once he looked upon the proceeding with indignation, 
and discerned a violation of the central right of the Saxon's 
idea of liberty. 

He saw the Mayor entreating the crowd to maintain order 
and the peace ; but, from the lips of that cowered official, he 
heard no command of authority. The young lawyer was also 
a military gentleman, and held a commission in a Suffolk 
Regiment. The Colonel of that Regim.ent happened to be 
standing near him, 

"Colonel," said the young officer, "why not call out the 
guards? Let us oft'er our services to the Mayor." 

In ten words the wiser officer taught his young friend 
more of the government of the United States than nine years' 
study had taught him. 

"You fool !" cried the latter, pointing to the crowd before 
liim, "don't you see that the Regiment is in front of you ?" 



Wli:NDE:LI, PlIILUrS 431 

True to the proverb, that "the blood of the martyrs Is the 
seat of the church,'' this spectacle of shameless outrage com- 
mitted against a single, defenceless man, whose only crime was 
that he had dared to speak out the unvoiced wrongs of the 
poorest and most abject of beings in the form of man, went 
home to the heart of Phillips, and stirred his Puritanic blood 
to the very finger tips. 

HOW HE FOUND HIS WIFE 

It was while young Phillips was still a member of the 
Harvard Law School that he first became acquainted with 
Miss Anna Terry Greene, It was a sort of chance meeting, 
the outcome of which is best told in the heroine's own words : 

"It was in old stage-coach days," she once explained. "I, 
with other girls, was booked for Greenfield, Mass. Wendell 
Phillips and Charles Sumner agreed to go also. Sumner 
broke his engagement: Mr. Phillips went. I talked abolition 
to him all the way up, — all the time there. He listened, came 
again, and it sealed his fate." 

In October, 1837, Mr. Phillips was married to Miss 
Greene, but not until she had succeeded in fully converting 
him to the cause of anti-slavery. 

AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE OF THE LECTURE PLATFORM 
In the fall of 1859, Wendell Phillips was announced to de- 
liver a literary lecture in the Park Baptist Church, Port Rich- 
mond, Staten Island. The political feeling of the time was so 
bitter that even though the lecture was on a literary subject, 
a riot was feared. George William Curtis, the Chairman of 
the Lecture Committee, as well as Phillips, were threatened 
with vile treatment. Mr. Hamilton Wilcox relates the story 
of the evening. He says: "Before the lecture, in the early 
evening, a number of the friends of Phillips posted themselves 
at the church gate. There were no gas lamps in the street 



432 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

then, and the light was dim. Nearly every man who entered 
expected a bloody riot, and was well armed. By eight o'clock 
a large and excited assemblage occupied the road and side- 
walk, loudly objecting to Phillips' speaking; though his subject 
was not politics. Prominent near the gate was a Virginian 
named J. M. C. Loud. This worthy was forward in denounc- 
ing Phillips as 'an enemy to the Union.' When a lady drove 
up, Victor LeGal of West Brighton, followed by several 
roughs, rushed to her carriage-door, and said, 'I advise you, 
madam, not to go in ; there is going to be trouble.' 

" 'W^hat trouble, sir ?' said she calmly. 

" 'Two hundred of us,' said LeGal, 'have decided to tear this 
man from the desk, and plant him in the Jersey marshes.' 

"The lady looked him steadily in the face, and replied, — 

" 'I don't think that will be allowed, sir.' 

" 'Well,' said LeGal, 'if you know you have force enough 
to prevent it, go ahead !' 

" *I do not say any such thing,' answered the lady ; 'but 
this is not a political meeting. I have come to hear a literary 
lecture, and I think there will be decent men enough here to 
check any disturbance.' 

"The intrepidity of this heroic woman abashed the crowd, 
and, without doubt, discouraged them from attempting to 
storm the church in which the lecture was delivered. It was 
afterward learned that LeGal spoke the real purpose of the 
leaders of the gang, who meant to row Mr. Phillips to a salt 
marsh whence he could not escape, and leave him there, to be 
drowned by the rising tide ere daybreak. 

"Mr. Phillips left his carriage at some distance from the 
church-door, and, wrapped in his cloak, went forward on foot. 
In the dim light he passed unnoticed through the multitude; 
but, just as he reached the gate, a rough, who had doubtless 
helped to disturb anti-slavery meetings in New York, recog- 
nized him. Grasping his shoulder, the fellow shouted : 



WENDELL PhILI^IPS 433 

" 'Let me introduce you to Wendell Phillips !' 

"The ruffian was instantly dragged off, and Mr. Phillips 
entered unharmed. 

"Mr. Curtis, who evidently apprehended trouble (the nar- 
rator continues), took the platform, and introduced Mr. 
Phillips, who proceeded to deliver his address. 

"Voices from the street cried, 'Fetch him out! Fetch him 
out!' The janitor and his aid closed and fastened the outer 
door, and Mr. Phillips proceeded with his lecture. Some mem- 
ber of the mob outside took a ladder to a window on the south 
side of the church, and, climbing up, pulled the blind open. 
Some one inside at once jerked it back, and fastened it shut. 
This made a loud noise for several minutes. The assembly 
all looked round, but sat still. Mr. PJiillips stopped, and stood 
watching the matter, till the noise ceased, and then went on 
with perfect self-possession. 

"When the lecture ended, — which it did earlier than the 
rowdies expected, — the speaker, instead of waiting to be 
spoken to by his hearers as usual, stepped at once to the pew 
where Mrs. Shaw and Mrs. Curtis sat, and, giving an arm to 
each, joined the stream of people moving out, being about mid- 
way of the line. In the midst of the outgoing congregation he 
passed unnoticed through the mob, and walked away. When 
all the audience had passed out, Mr. Shaw in a hurried man- 
ner rushed forth, and sprang into his carriage, which was 
driven quickly ofif. A rabble pursued it, yelling, cursing, and 
throwing stones; but, when they had gone some distance, a 
friend of the speaker shouted, 'You're too late ! He's not in 
there !' Mortified and discouraged, the mob stopped the chase,^ 
and dispersed." 

PHILLIPS IN TREMONT TEMPLE 
Lydia Maria Child relates this interesting story of an anti- 
slavery meeting in Tremont Temple, Boston : 



434 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

"I went very early in the morning, and entered the Tre- 
mont Temple by a private labyrinthine passage. There I found 
a company of young men, a portion of the self-constituted 
body-guard of Mr. Phillips. They looked calm, but resolute 
and stern. I knew they were all armed, as well as hundreds 
of others ; but their weapons were not visible. The women 
friends came in gradually by the same private passage. It was 
a solemn gathering, I assure you ; for though there was a 
pledge not to use weapons unless Mr. Phillips or some other 
anti-slavery speaker was personally in danger, still nobody 
could foresee what might happen. The meeting opened very 
well. 

"The anti-slavery sentiment was there in strong force, but 
soon the mob began to yell from the galleries. They came 
tumbling in by hundreds. The papers will tell you of their 
goings on. Such yelling, screeching, stamping, and bellowing 
I never heard. 

"Mr, Phillips stood on the front of the platform for a full 
hour, trying to be heard whenever the storm lulled a little. 
They cried, 'Throw him out !' 'Throw a brick-bat at him !' 
'Your house is a-fire : don't you know your house is a-fire ? Go 
put out your house.' Then they'd sing, with various bellowing 
and shrieking accompaniments. 'Tell John Andrew, tell John 
Andrew, John Brown's dead !' I should think there were four 
or five hundred of them. At one time they all rose up, many 
of them clattered down-stairs, and there was a surging forward 
toward the platform. My heart beat so fast I could hear it; 
for I did not then know how Mr. Phillips' armed friends were 
stationed at every door, and in the middle of every aisle. They 
formed a firm wall, which the mob could not pass. At last it 
was announced that the police were coming. T saw and heard 
nothing of them, but there was a lull. Mr. Phillips tried to 
speak, but his voice was again drowned. Then, by a clever 
stroke of management, he stooped forward, and addressed 



Wendeli. Phillips 431^ 

his speech to the reporters stationed directly below him. This 
tantahzed the mob; and they began to call out, 'Speak louder! 
we want to hear what you're saying;' whereupon he raised 
his voice, and for half an hour he seemed to hold them in the 
hollow of his hand. But, as soon as he sat down, they began 
to yell and sing again, to prevent any more speaking. 

WENDELL PHILLIPS AND JEFFERSON DAVIS* NIECE 

One day during the war Mr. Phillips spoke before the 
Lyceum at Gloucester, Massachusetts, and, returning home 
by the cars the next morning, fell in with a lady who got 
upon the train at a way station. She was a Southern refugee, 
who had been suddenly reduced from affluence to poverty, and 
was supporting herself and her fatherless children by giving 
an occasional lecture before a country audience. It was a 
struggle; for the field was full, and she was almost unknown 
and friendless : but with a brave heart she worked on, never 
asking a dollar of aid from any society or individual. Mr. 
Phillips saw her get upon the car, and asked her to take a seat 
beside him. It was a winter day; and she was thinly clad, 
shivering from the exposure of a long ride in the open air of 
the cold morning. Observing this, Mr. Phillips asked, — 

"Where did you speak last night?" 

She told him it was at a town about ten miles distant from 
the railway. 

"And — I wouldn't be impertinent — how much did they pay 
you ?" 

"Five dollars, and the fare to and from Boston." 

"Five dollars!" he exclaimed; "why, I always get fifty 
or a hundred: and your lecture must be worth more than 
mine, — you can give them facts, I only opinions." 

"Small as it is, I am very glad to get it, Mr. Phillips," 
answered the lady. "I would talk at that rate every night dur- 
ing the winter." 



436 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

He sat for a moment in silence : then he put his hand into 
his pocket, drew out a roll of bank-notes, and said, in a hesi- 
tating way, — 

"1 don't want to give offence, but you know I preach that 
a woman is entitled to the same as a man if she does the same 
work. Now, my price is fifty or a hundred dollars ; and, if you 
will let me divide it with you, I shall not have had any more 
than you, and the thing will be even." 

The lady at first refused; but, after a little gentle urging, 
she put the bank-notes into her purse. At the end of her 
journey, she counted the roll, and found it contained fifty 
dollars, — every dollar that he had received for his lecture at 
Gloucester. It may add a point to this simple incident to say 
(what is the truth) that the lady was a niece of Jefferson 
Davis. 

THOMAS C. PLATT 

"KEPT QUIET AND MADE PILLS" 

OENATOR THOMAS C. PLATT, of New York, began 
^^ life as a druggist in the town of Owego, Tioga County, 
and has never forgotten his experience in pill-making. After 
the election in 1902, a young Republican candidate for the 
Assembly whom Piatt had put forward for personal reasons, 
and who was carried away on the Democratic tidal wave 
which swept over New York City, called on the Senator and 
said : "It's all up with me. I can never appear in politics 
again. I am ashamed to show my face in my district after 
that beating." 

"Young man," replied the Senator, "don't you think I am 
very much in politics to-day? Well, just twenty-two years 
ago, when I resigned from the United States Senate with 
Conkling, I was ridiculed as 'me too,' from the Atlantic to the 
Pacific, and, when the legislature refused to return us to the 



Thomas C. Platt 437 

Senate, everybody thought that I would never dare to reap- 
pear in pohtics. But I just went back to Owego, kept quiet, 
and made pills." 

After a pause, the Senator added, thoughtfully: "For 
fifteen years I worked day and night making pills for my 
enemies, and, somehow, they all died off, and I found myself 
back in the Senate and in complete control of the organization 
in this State. Don't be discouraged by your first setback, 
young man. Turn in and make pills." 

THE PRINCIPLE OF PROTECTION 

When the last tariff squabble was on a number of im- 
porters called on Senator Piatt at his office in New York to 
protest against the proposed increased duties on Oriental rugs. 
"It will kill the rug business," said the spokesman. "The 
duty is too high now, and if it is increased to this absurd fig- 
ure we cannot import rugs and sell them. Why should the 
duty be increased?" 

"Well," replied the Senator, "some of our fellows make 
rugs up in Amsterdam. They want the duty set higher. 
That's the principle of protection, you know." 

"But, my dear Senator," protested the rug man, "don't 
you see that with rugs costing us so much to import there will 
be no chance to get rid of them?" 

"Is that a calamity?" inquired Senator Piatt. "Why can't 
we make Oriental rugs in New York? Our fellows up in 
Amsterdam say they can make them just as good there as 
anywhere else." 

Then the importers entered on a long argument to show 
the Senator that the making of Oriental rugs is an art culti- 
vated for centuries and that the workmen, the local conditions 
and the atmosphere are not to be found in New York. "In- 
deed," the argument concluded, "we can no more produce 
Oriental rup-s in New York than we can produce Titians." 



I 



438 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"Oh, well," said the Senator, "none of our fellows are mak- 
ing Titians now, and I'll be glad to help you about those." 

POCAHONTAS 

HOW SHE SAVED CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH 

N one of his attempts to penetrate to the source of the 
Chickahominy River, Captain John Smith was captured 
by Opechancanough, brother of the great chief Powhatan. 
He had made a brave fight, himself killing three of his assail- 
ants and wounding several others. While attempting to reach 
his canoe, he sank, with his buckler on his arm, up to his waist 
in a bog. The savages dared not approach him, till, benumbed 
with cold, he threw away his arms and shield in token of 
surrender. They extricated him from the morass, carried him 
to their bivouac, and attempted to restore the circulation of 
his frozen blood by vigorous friction. 

Smith, without condescending to beg for his life, requested 
to speak with the chief. Upon being presented to Opechan- 
canough, he drew from his pocket a portable ivory compass, 
which he used to guide his course through the woods. He 
called the chiefs attention to the restless play of the needle, 
at the same time attempting an explanation of the wonderful 
purpose it was made to serve. In his own account of the inter- 
view, he states that he went on to expound the mysteries 
of astronomy, the alternations of the seasons and the revolution 
of the earth, "and how the sunne did chase the night about 
the world continually ;" but those who are aware how difficult 
it is to comprehend these abstruse matters, and to obtain an 
adequate conception of the Copernican system, even with the 
aid of diagrams and an orrery, will probably conclude that 
Smith entirely overrated his skill in pantomime. But, at any 
rate, the interesting little dial, which was doubtless taken for 
a god or a medicine, saved him from the immediate death to 



Pocahontas 439 

which he was doomed, and he was taken in procession to the 
village of Orapax. Here the warriors performed a hideous 
war dance around him, to the delight of the assembled squaws 
and pappooses. He was then plied so bountifully with excel- 
lent fare, that he imagined that he was to be fattened for the 
table — a calumnious supposition, by the way, as the Indians 
of North America have always been free from the disgusting 
practice of cannibalism. 

Some time after this. Smith was taken to Werowocomoco, 
the residence of Powhatan, the great chief. He was detained 
for a time, that the emperor might receive him with becom- 
ing ceremony. He was at last introduced into a wigwam of 
unusual size, in the centre of which was a blazing fire. At one 
end, upon a rude throne, sat Powhatan, a man of noble stature 
and of majestic, though severe demeanor. He was dressed in 
raccoon skins, "the tayles all hanging by." On one side of him 
was his daughter, Matachanna, on the other his younger and 
favorite daughter, Matoaka, the "Snow-feather" destined in' 
the coming hour to render herself immortal, under the beau-j 
tiful bu assumed name of Pocahontas. Against each wall of 
the wigwam sat a row of women, their faces and shoulders 
painted red, their hair adorned with the white down of birds, 
and their necks ornamented with beads. 

The queen of Apamatuck brought the guest water with 
which to wash his hands, and another lady of rank a bunch of 
feathers with which to dry them. A consultation was then 
held, at the end of which two large stones were laid before 
Powhatan. Smith was dragged to the altar thus improvised, 
and his head placed upon the stones. Some half dozen sav- 
ages raised their clubs in the air, waiting for Powhatan's 
signal to beat out the helpless captive's brains. Pocahontas 
for a moment stayed her father's purpose by her tears and 
entreaties ; but finding all intercession unavailing, she sprang 
forward, kneeled over Smith's prostrate form, clasped his 



440 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

head in her arms, and placing her own upon it seemed de- 
termined to share his fate. This heroic and generous act 
touched the hearts of Powhatan and the executioners; the 
great chief yielded to the solicitations of his daughter, and set 
the sentence of death aside, resolving to employ Smith as an 
artisan, to make hatchets, bows and arrows for himself, and 
bells and beads for Pocahontas. 

A FRIENDLY DEED 

Some time after the sparing of Captain John Smith because 
of the daring and romantic conduct of Pocahontas, Powhatan 
had resolved to fall upon the English, and had made such for- 
midable preparations as would have secured him an easy 
triumph, had not his intentions been divulged by his daughter. 
The historian thus records the incident : 

"For Pocahontas, his dearest jewel, in that dark night 
came through the irksome woods and told our Captain great 
cheer should be sent us by and by ; but Powhatan and all the 
power he could make, would after come kill us all. if they 
that brought it could not kill us with our own weapons when 
we were at supper. Therefore, if we would live, she wished 
us presently to be gone. Such things as she delighted in the 
Captain would have given her; but, with the tears running 
down her cheeks, she said she durst not be seen to have any ; 
for if Powhatan should know it, she were but dead, and so she 
ran away by herself as she came.'*' 

THE CAPTURE OF POCAHONTAS 

As Pocahontas approached womanhood the English deter- 
mined upon her capture as a hostage with which to treat with 
Powhatan who was making the Colonists trouble. At first the 
Indian princess was greatly troubled, but dried her eyes upon 
the reflection that the English, to whom she had rendered such 
signal services, could not treat her with inhumanity. The 



Pocahontas 441 

vessel sailed down the river to Jamestown, which the princess 
had not seen since Smith's departure. On their arrival a mes- 
sage was dispatched to Powhatan, to the effect "that his 
daughter Pocahontas he loved so dearly, he must ransom with 
the English men, swords, pieces, tooles, he treacherously had 
stolen." Though the venerable sachem is said to have been 
much troubled at his daughter's captivity, he was still so deeply 
offended at the undiplomatic language in which the demand 
was couched, that he sent no answer for the space of three 
months. At the end of that time, he liberated seven English- 
men, with as many rusty, disabled fire-locks, one axe, one saw, 
and one canoe laden with corn. He further offered to make 
peace and give a bonus of five hundred baskets of corn, if his 
daughter were restored. He could return no more muskets, 
however, as they were all mislaid ; and he could not compel the 
whites who remained with him to return, free volunteers as 
they were in his service. The colonists were not deceived by 
this transparent ruse, and sent back word that they would re- 
lease Pocahontas when all the arms and captives were restored, 
and not before. The stern warrior gave himself no further 
uneasiness about his daughter, tranquilly abandoning her to 
her fate, and retaining his prisoners and his muskets. Thus 
nearly a year passed away. The time need not be supposed to 
have hung heavily upon the captive princess' hands, for subse- 
quent developments show her to have been engaged in the 
"very pleasant and diverting pastime of love-making with a 
worthy young Englishman, John Rolfe by name." 

THE ROMANTIC MARRIAGE OF POCAHONTAS 

Lossing, the historian, gives this remarkably pictorial and 
eloquent account of the marriage of Pocahontas : 

"It was a day in charming April, in 1613, when Rolfe and 
Pocahontas stood at the marriage altar in the new and pretty 
chapel at Jamestown. The sun had marched half way up to- 



442 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

ward the meridian, when a goodly company had assembled be- 
neath the temple roof. The pleasant odor of the 'pews of 
cedar' commingled with the fragrance of the wild flowers 
which decked the festoons of evergreens and sprays that hung 
over the 'fair, broad windows,' and the commandment tablets 
above the chancel. Over the pulpit of black-walnut hung gar- 
lands of white flowers, with the waxen leaves and scarlet ber- 
ries of the holly. The communion table was covered with fair 
white linen, and bore bread from the wheat fields of James- 
town, and wine from its luscious grapes. The font, 'hewn hol- 
low between, like a canoe,' sparkled with water, as on the 
morning when the gentle princess uttered her baptismal vows. 
"Of all that company assembled in the broad space be- 
tween the chancel and the pews, the bride and groom were the 
central figures in fact and significance. Pocahontas was 
dressed in a simple tunic of white muslin, from the looms 
of Dacca. Her arms were bare even to the shoulders ; and, 
hanging loosely towards her feet, was a robe of rich stuff, pre- 
sented by Sir Thomas Dale, and fancifully embroidered by 
herself and her maidens. A gaudy fillet encircled her head, and 
held the plumage of birds and a veil of gauze, while her limbs 
were adorned with the simple jewelry of the native workshops. 
Rolfe was attired in the gay clothing of an English cavalier 
of that period, and upon his thigh he wore the short sword 
of a gentleman of distinction in society. He was the personifi- 
cation of manly beauty in form and carriage ; she of womanly 
modesty and lovely simplicity; and as they came and stood 
before the man of God, history dipped her pen in the inde- 
structible fountain of truth, and recorded a phophecy of mighty 
empires in the New World. Upon the chancel steps, where no 
railing interfered, the good Whitaker stood in his sacerdotal 
robes, and, with impressive voice, pronounced the marriage 
ritual of the liturgy of the Anglican Church, then first planted 
on the Western Continent. On his right, in a richly carved 



Pocahontas 443 

chair of state, brought from England, sat the Governor, with 
his ever-attendant halberdiers, with brazen hemlets, at his 
back. 

"All then at Jamestown were at the marriage. The let- 
ters of the time have transmitted to us the names of some of 
them. Mistress John Rolfe, with her child — doubtless of the 
family of the bridegroom — Alistress Easton and child, and 
Mistress Horton and grandchild, with her maid servant, Eliza- 
beth Parsons, who, on a Christmas eve before, had married 
Thomas Powell, were yet in Virginia. Among the noted men 
then present was Sir Thomas Gates, a brave soldier in many 
wars, and as brave an adventurer among the Atlantic perils as 
any who ever trusted to the ribs of oak of the ships of Old 
England. And Master Sparkes, who had been co-embassa- 
dor with Rolfe in the court of Powhatan, stood near the old 
soldier with young Henry Spilman at his side. There, too, 
was the young George Percy, brother of the powerful Duke 
of Northumberland, whose conduct was always as noble as his 
Mood ; and near him, an earnest spectator of the scene was the 
elder brother of Pocahontas, but not the destined successor 
to the throne of his father. There, too, was a younger brother 
of the bride, and many youths and maidens from the forest 
shades ; but one noble figure — the pride of the Powhatan con- 
federacy — the father of the bride, was absent. He had con- 
sented to the marriage with willing voice, but would not 
trust himself within the power of the English, at Jamestown, 
He remained in his habitation at Werowocomoco, while the 
Rose and the Totum were being wedded, but cheerfully com- 
missioned his brother, Opachisco, to give away his daughter. 
That prince perfomied his duty well, and then, in careless 
gravity, he sat and listened to the voice of the Apostle, and 
the sweet chanting of the little choristers. The music ceased, 
the benediction fell, the solemn 'Amen' echoed from the rude 
vaulted roof, and the joyous company left the chapel for the 



444 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

festive hall of the Governor. Thus, "the peace was made 
stronger, and the Rose of England lay undisturbed upon the 
Hatchet of the Powhatans, while the father of Pocahontas 
lived." 

POCAHONTAS AT THE ENGLISH COURT 

Three years after her marriage, Pocahontas, with her in- 
fant son, Thomas Rolfe, accompanied her husband and Sir 
Thomas Dale to England, where they arrived on the i6th of 
June, 1616. King James was offended with Rolfe for his 
presumption in marrying a daughter of a King — a piece of 
affection for which His Majesty has been styled by a Vir- 
ginian historian, *'An annointed pedant." Captain John Smith 
was at this time in London, preparing for a voyage to New 
England; he, however, delayed his departure for the purpose 
of serving Pocahontas. He drew up a memorial to "the most 
high and virtuous Princess, Queen Anne," from which we 
select the following extract : 

"Some ten years ago, being in Virginia, and taken prisoner 
by the power of Powhatan, their chief King, I received from 
this great savage exceeding great courtesy, especially from 
his son Nantaquaus, the most manliest, comeliest, boldest 
spirit I ever saw in a savage, and his sister, Pocahontas, the 
King's most dear and well-beloved daughter, being but a 
child of twelve or thirteen years of age, whose compassionate, 
pitiful heart of my desperate estate, gave me much cause to 
respect her. After some weeks fatting amongst these savage 
courtiers at the minute of my execution, she hazarded the 
beating out of her own brains to save mine, and not only that, 
but so prevailed with her father that I was safely conducted to 
Jamestown. 

"Such was the weakness of this poor commonwealth, as, 
had the savages not fed us, we directly had starved. And this 
relief, most gracious queen, was commonly brought us by this 



Pocahontas 445 

Lady Pocahontas; notwithstanding all those passages when 
inconstant Fortune turned our peace to war, this tender virgin 
still would not spare to come to visit us, and by her our jars 
have been oft appeased, and our wants still supplied. Were it 
the policy of her father thus to employ her, or the ordinance of 
God thus to make her his instrument, or her extraordinary 
affection to our nation, I know not ; but of this I am sure, when 
her father, with the utmost of his policy and power, sought to 
surprise me, having but eighteen with me, the dark night could 
not affright her from coming through the irksome woods, and 
with watered eyes, give me intelligence, with her best advice, to 
escape his fury ; which, had he known, he had surely slain her. 
James Town, with her wild train, she as freely frequented as 
her father's habitation ; and during the time of two or three 
years, she next, under God, was still the instrument to preserve 
this colony from death, famine and utter confusion, which, if 
these times had once been dissolved, Virginia might have lain 
as it was on our arrival to this day. 

"Since then, this business having been turned and carried 
by many accidents from that I left it at, it is most certain after 
a long and troublesome war, after my departure, betwixt her 
father and our colony, all which time she was not heard of, 
about two years after she herself was taken prisoner, being so 
detained near two years longer ; the colony was by that means 
relieved, peace concluded, and at last, rejecting her barbarous 
condition, was married to an English gentleman, with whom 
at present, she is in England ; the first Christian ever of that 
nation, the first Virginian ever spoke English, or had a child in 
marriage by an Englishman, a matter surely, if my meaning be 
truly considered and well understood, worthy a Princess' un- 
derstanding." 

Thus recommended, Pocahontas gained the friendship and 
esteem of the King and Queen, and her acquaintance was 
eagerly sought by persons of the highest rank, many of whom 



446 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

declared "they had seen Enghsh ladies worse favored, propor- 
tioned and behaviored." She was known as the Lady Rebecca. 
Her portrait was taken at this period, and represented her in 
the fashionable English costume of the day. The following 
inscription was appended to it: Matoaka, als Rebecca, Filia 
Potentiss : Princ : Powhatani Imp : Virginae. Matoaka, als Re- 
becca, Daughter to the Mighty Prince Powhatan, Emperour of 
Attanoughkomouck, als Virginia, Converted and Baptized in 
the Christian Faith, and Wife of the Worshipful Mr. John 
Rolfe. Aetatis suae 21 A.D. 1616. 

POCAHONTAS' LAST INTERVIEW WITH CAPT. JOHN SMITH 

Before his departure from England, Smith paid a visit to 
Pocahontas at Brentford, whither she had retired with her 
husband, to escape the smoke and din of the great city. 

She had been told, though with what design we are not 
informed, that he was long since dead, and when he was sud- 
denly introduced into her presence, she was so overwhelmed 
with joy at his restoration, and with resentment at the imposi- 
tion, that she turned away and buried her face in her hands. 
She remained silent for three hours, being left to herself to 
recover her equanimity. Smith was somewhat annoyed at this 
result of her emotion, "repenting himself to have writ that she 
could speak English." She finally yielded to entreaty and con- 
versed freely with Smith and other guests. She thus addressed 
the Captain : "You promised my father that whatever was yours 
should be his, and that you and he would be all one. Being a 
stranger in our country, you called Powhatan father ; and I for 
the same reason will now call you so." But Smith represented 
to her how jealous the King and court were of any undue 
assumption of royal or noble state in those who were of plebeian 
descent and urged, in combating her proposition, that if his 
majesty had been offended with her husband for having mar- 
ried one of royal birth, how much more so would he be likely 



JosiAH QuiNCY 447 

to be if a lady of royal birth were to bestow the title of father 
upon an adventurer like himself. But Pocahontas could not 
understand his reasoning, and continued in a loftier tone: 
"You were not afraid to come into my father's country, and 
cause fear in him and all his people but me, and are you here 
afraid to let me call you father? I tell you then I will call 
you father, and you shall call me child ; and so I will forever 
be of your kindred and country." 

JOSIAH QUINCY 

A NOBLE TRIBUTE TO A MOTHER 

JOSIAH QUINCY pays this remarkable tribute to his 
mother. Speaking of their life together, he says : 
"In the society of my mother the natural affections of a 
son were strengthened by the cultivated affection of a friend. 
We lived together for about seven years, with a mutual confi- 
dence and respect of which there are few parallels, and could 
be none superior. Our interest in each other was complete. I 
had no thought which I could not confide to her, I had no 
wish she did not gratify. The bonds which united us, in feel- 
ings and opinions, were the purest and the strongest human 
nature is capable of maintaining. Her temper was amiable, 
and full of vivacity, — the delight of the social circle, — and I 
can conceive of nothing stronger than the mutual love and re- 
spect which bound us together. Of a long life, the whole of 
which has been singularly happy, I can recall no happier por- 
tion than the period that I thus passed with my mother. I had 
every source of rational enjoyment for the present. I had no 
cause of apprehension for the future. I cannot express too 
strongly my sense of the wisdom, and of the kindness, with 
which she conducted her intercourse with me, and I attribute 
such success as I have had in life to the principles and spirit 
which she early infused into me by her advice and example." 



448 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

A HASTY AND HAPPY COURTSHIP 

Edmund Quincy, in his biography of his father, has this 
brief account of his courtship: 

"Miss Morton, at the time of her first visit to Boston, was 
about twenty years old, not handsome, but with an inteUigent 
face and pleasing person, with very winning manners and most 
agreeable powers of conversation. My father's fate was de- 
cided at their first interview. In a week from the day that he 
first met her and learned the fact of her existence, he was en- 
gaged to be married to her ! It is proper to say, however, that 
he did not commend the abstract prudence of his conduct in 
this particular, fortunate as its results happened to be, or ad- 
vise his sons, or any ingenuous youth who might seek his 
counsel, to imitate the precipitate energy of his example. But 
I have no doubt that my readers would rather have his own 
account than mine of this interesting passage of his life." 

A POLITICIAN'S TRICK 

Josiah Quincy's son tells this story of the political life of 
his father's time : 

"My father used to tell this characteristic story of Matthew 
Lyon's method of managing his constituents : In those days of 
few newspapers and tedious postal communication, it was the 
custom of the members from the remoter and more thinly 
settled sections of the country to write political letters to their 
constituents, giving an account of what is now called 'the 
situation,' which were printed and distributed under their 
frank. One day my father asked Lyon how he avoided offend- 
ing those of his constituents to whom he neglected to send his 
political missives, as it was quite impossible that he should re- 
member them all. 'I manage it in this way,' he replied. 'When 
I am canvassing my district, and I come across a man who 
looks distantly and coldly at me, I go up cordially to him and 
say, 'My dear friend, you got my printed letter last session, of 



JosiAH QuiNCY 449 

course?' 'No, sir,' replies the man with offended dignity, 'I 
got no such thing.' 'No!' I cry out in a passion. 'No!! 
Confound that post-office!' Then I make a memorandum of the 
man's name and address, and when I get back to Washington 
I write him an autograph letter, and all is put to rights." 

A SPECIMEN OF REVOLUTIONARY WIT 

There is an interesting story recorded in Josiah Quincy's 
diary which recalls a bright flash of Revolutionary wit. He 
writes : 

"President Adams came to town to view the 'Declaration 
of Independence,' by Colonel Trumbull, now exhibiting at 
Faneuil Hall. President Adams, Trumbull, Professor Farrar, 
William S. Shaw, dined with me. Colonel Trumbull said, 
that every portrait in his picture was taken from a real sitting 
of the individual, or from some existing picture of him, except 
that of Benjamin Harrison, which was only from general de- 
scription, received from his son, the recently distinguished 
General Harrison. Adams said, that the portrait bore a gen- 
eral resemblance, but was not sufficiently corpulent. He well 
remembered, that, when engaged in signing the Declaration of 
Independence, a side conversation took place between Harri- 
son, who was remarkably corpulent, and Elbridge Gerry, who 
was remarkably the reverse. 'Ah, Gerry,' said Harrison, 'I 
shall have an advantage over you in this act.' 'How so ?' said 
Gerry. 'Why,' replied Harrison, 'when we come to be hung 
for this treason, I am so heavy, I shall plump down upon the 
rope and be dead in an instant ; but you are so light, that you 
will be dangling and kicking about for an hour in the air.' " 

LAFAYETTE AND MRS. HANCOCK 
In 1824, when Quincy was Mayor of Boston, he was riding 
in the parade in a carriage with Lafayette. "As he was pass- 
ing through the streets," says Quincy's son, "that morning, 



450 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

in the midst of all the tumult of welcome, Lafayette remem- 
bered his old friend, and said to my father, Tray tell me, is 
the widow of John Hancock still alive?' 'O yes,' was the an- 
swer, 'and I have no doubt that we shall see her at one of the 
windows as we pass by,' 'If you see her, have the goodness 
to let me know it,' replied Lafayette. As they were passing 
along what is now Tremont Street, fronting the Common, my 
father espied the venerable dame seated in an honorable post 
of observation on a balcony overlooking the scene. 'There 
is Hancock's widow. General,' said he. 'Tell the coachman,' 
said the General, 'to draw up opposite the place.' This being 
done, Lafayette rose and saluted her with a profound bow, 
which she returned by as profound a curtsey, the crowd cheer- 
ing the pair with great enthusiasm. And hers was the first 
private house he entered in Boston." 

THOMAS BRACKETT REED 

A SOUVENIR HUNTER 

"TV /TR. ALLEN, who was elected to fill the vacancy in the 
±\X House caused by the retirement of Thomas B. Reed, 
•states that Reed greatly disliked to be approached by autograph 
seekers and souvenir "fiends." In this connection he tells of an 
amusing instance in which Reed turned the tables on a particu- 
larly offensive specimen. 

It appears that one day at the close of the session Reed 
was much put out to discover that some one had taken his hat, 
leaving instead a battered tile much too small for him. But 
Mr. Reed put the old hat on, and so was not in the best of 
humor when he left the Capitol. 

Just as he was leaving the grounds, a finely dressed indi- 
vidual rushed up to Reed, and grasping his hand and shook it 
effusively, exclaiming: "I am sure that this is the famous 



Thomas Brackett Reed 451 

Thomas P.. Reed ! Although a stranger in Washington, I rec- 
ognized you at once!" 

With a frigid bow, Reed sought to escape; but unavail- 
ingly. The stranger was not to be squelched. "Ah !" cried he 
exuhingly, "you're not going to get away so easily ! You must 
give me some souvenir of our meeting." 

"Why, certainly, my dear sir," instantly responded Reed, 
who had been observing the beauty of the silk hat worn by 
the stranger, "we'll exchange hats." And suiting the words 
to the action, the man from Maine quickly effected the transfer, 
bowed politely to the souvenir hunter, and was off before the 
latter could realize what had occurred. 

THE SECRET OF HAPPINESS 

A friend once said to Reed : 

"You are well experienced in this world's affairs, what 
do you take to be the object of life? Money?" 

"No." 

"Individual happiness ?" 

"Not wholly. Right action. A man should take a part in 
the affairs of his fellow men and live up to the dictates of his 
conscience in acting. He should be of some use. If he has de- 
sires, all the better. A desire for anything that will help others 
and satisfy you is a good thing. A man has a right to desire 
money or place or public praise, but he has no right to any 
selfish feeling in the matter. He ought to desire to be liberal 
and earn his reward by service of some kind." 

"Do you think the world offers as much to individuals as it 
ever did?" 

"If we can trust history, it does. The literature of earlier 
times seems more complaining than our own. Men were just 
as dissatisfied a thousand years ago as they are now. Man 
seems always to have craved a great deal more than he could 
obtain. Individually, I think, the age is richer with oppor- 



452 Capitai, Stories About Famous Ame;ricans 

tunities than for ages. The system under which we live is 
somewhat defective, and many suffer by it ; but it is changing 
and the world grows better. The unselfish man will find 
enough, I fancy, if he honestly fulfills his duty to his fellow 
men. It is all a question of peace of mind, and that can be 
obtained in various ways, — the best one, by doing right." 

ONE WAY TO MAKE A FRIEND 

Congressman R. G. Cousins, of Iowa, was the late Speaker 
"Tom" Reed's most constant companion in Washington for 
eight or ten years before the "Czar" retired in disgust from 
public life. When Mr. Cousins entered Congress Mr. Reed 
was at the zenith of his power. Benjamin Harrison was Presi- 
dent, and Reed, backed by a powerful cabal of House leaders, 
was eager to lead a revolt against Harrison's renomination 
with the intention of securing the nomination himself. But 
Mr. Reed Avas too proud to admit even to his most enthusiastic 
supporters that he had a yearning for the presidency- Cousins, 
being then young and gawky, stood in awe of Reed, though 
having great admiration for him. Reed enjoyed nothing more 
than to add to the misery of green young mem.bers by making 
observations calculated to embarrass them. 

One day Cousins entered the room of a hotel in which Reed 
was the centre of a group of House leaders. The lowan has 
a nervous habit of scratching the back of his left hand with the 
fingers of his right. Observing this, and wishing to create a 
laugh, Mr. Reed called out : 

"Did you ever have the itch, young man ?" 

Inspired by desperation, the embarrassed young Hawkeye 
man sent his reply hurling at the imperious Reed: 

"I've never had the Presidential itch." 

Reed's full-moon face turned crimson. The guffaws of his 
companions, every one of whom bore wounds of his fierce wit, 
resounded through the hall. In sheer fright at his own 



M 



John D. Rockefe;i,i.e;r 453 

audacity, Cousins fled the room in the midst of the hubbub. 
But the big Speaker sent for the young lowan the next day. 
and from that time forward the two were Hke Damon and 
Pythias to the day of Mr. Reed's death. 

JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER 

HIS FIRST LEDGER 

R. ROCKEFELLER once related to a friend, that while 
in Cleveland, Ohio, slaving away at humble tasks in 
his youth, he kept a small ledger in which he entered all his 
receipts and expenditures. It was nothing more than a small 
paper-backed memorandum book. In the course of this con- 
versation Mr. Rockefeller said : 

"When I looked this book up the other day, I thought I 
had nothing but the cover to it, but, on examination, I 
perceived that I had utilized the cover to write on. In those 
days I was very economical, just as I am economical now. 
Economy is a virtue. I hadn't seen my little ledger for a long 
time, when I found it among some old things. It is more than 
forty-two years ago since I wrote what it contains. I called 
it 'Ledger A,' and I wouldn't exchange it now for all the 
ledgers in New York City and their contents. A glance 
through it shows me how carefully I kept account of my re- 
ceipts and disbursements. I only wish more young men could 
be induced to keep accounts like this nowadays. It would go 
far toward teaching them the value of money, and that is a 
most important thing. 

"Every young man should take care of his money. I think 
it is a man's duty to make all the money he can, keep all he 
can, and give away all he can. I have followed this principal 
religiously all my life, as is evidenced in this book. It tells me 
just what I did with my money during my first few years in 
business. Between September, 1855, and January, 1856, I re- 



454 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

ceived just fifty dollars. Out of this sum I paid for my wash- 
ing and my board, and managed to save a little besides. I find, 
in looking through the book, that I gave a cent to Sunday 
school every Sunday. It wasn't much, but it was all that I 
could afford to give to that particular object. What I could 
afford to give to the various religious and charitable works, I 
gave regularly. It is a good habit for a young man to get 
into. 

"During my second year in Cleveland, I earned twenty- 
five dollars a month. I was beginning to be a capitalist," said 
Mr. Rockefeller, with fine sarcasm, "and I suppose I ought 
to have considered myself a criminal for having so much money. 
I paid all my own bills at this time, and had some money 
to give away. I also had the happiness of saving some. I am 
not sure but what I was more independent then than now. I 
couldn't buy the most fashionable cut of clothing, but I dressed 
well enough. I certainly did not buy any clothes I couldn't pay 
for, as do some young men I know of. I didn't make any 
obligations I could not meet, and my earnest advice is for 
every young man to live within his means. One of the swiftest 
'toboggan slides' I know of, is for a young fellow just starting 
out into the world to go into debt. 

"During the time between November, 1855, and April, 
1856, I paid out just nine dollars and nine cents for clothing. 
And there is one item that was certainly extravagant, as I 
usually wore mittens in the winter. This item is for fur gloves, 
two dollars and a half. In this same period I gave away five 
dollars and fifty-eight cents. In one month I gave ten cents to 
foreign missions, fifty cents to the mite society, and twelve 
cents to the Five Points Mission, in New York. These little 
contributions of mine were not large, but they brought me into 
direct contact with church work, and that has been a benefit 
to me all my life. It is a mistake for a man to think that he 
must be rich to help others." 



Thdodoriv RoosEvEi^T 455 

THEODORE ROOSEVELT 

THE PRESIDENT'S AUDIENCE 

r\ NE busy day a clergyman called at the White House, and 
^-^ expressed a wish to see President Roosevelt. 

The doorkeeper, to whom he addressed himself, took his 
name and asked him to sit down and wait. In the reception 
room were, perhaps, fifty other citizens awaiting the termina- 
tion of various errands ; while probably as many more, of 
higher degree, were cultivating patience in an inner room. 
After pacing thoughtfully to and fro for a few minutes, the 
clergyman again made known his request, and, upon receiving 
a repetition, in substance, of the previous reply, resumed his 
walk, but could not dismiss the matter from his mind. In a 
few moments he returned to the doorkeeper. 

"See here !" he said. "At home I have a very large con- 
gregation, any member of which can reach me any minute of 
the day or night without being kept waiting. In addition to 
my own flock, as I have lived in the community many years, 
nearly the entire population is accustomed to turn to me for 
advice or help. I am accessible to them all, at all times. Now 
it seems strange to me that the President can't see me without 
all this delay." 

"How many does your congregation number?" asked the 
doorkeeper. 

"Well, my own congregation is about six hundred. But, 
counting all of those with whom I have to deal, I should say 
it is not less than five thousand. I never keep any of them 
waiting, sir." 

"Five thousand!" said the doorkeeper. "Huh ! How large 
a congregation do you think the President of the United 
States has? He has eighty millions, sir. Eighty millions! Do 
you suppose he can see every one of them, whenever they 
come ?" 



456 Capital Stories About Famous Ame;ricans 

ROOSEVELT AS A POLICEMAN 

"I was once impressed in a rather interesting way," said 
Julien T. Davies, the prominent New York lawyer, "with 
Roosevelt's readiness to sacrifice pleasure for business. When 
he was police commissioner of New York, Mr. and Mrs. Brad- 
ley Alartin gave their famous ball. 

"It was certain that there would be a great crowd outside 
the Bradley Martin house, on the night of the event, and that 
the police would have their hands full in keeping a clear pas- 
sageway for carriages and guests. Mr. and Mrs, Roosevelt 
had received invitations to the function. A few days before the 
day set for it Mrs. Martin happened to meet the police com- 
missioner. 

" 'Of course you are coming to my ball,' she asked him. 

" 'Mrs. Roosevelt will be there,' he answered, 'and I won't 
be far away. I'll be out in the street in front of the house 
directing the police.' 

"It was as he said. While distinguished men and beautiful 
women, many of them friends of the police commissioner, were 
alighting from their carriages and passing into an environment 
that was all that wealth and art could make it, Mr. Roosevelt 
was conspicuous in the street, as busy as any patrolman with 
that surging crowd." 

A PROPHECY FULFILLED 

Away back in 1884, at the convention which nominated 
Blaine, George William Curtis and Theodore Roosevelt were 
both delegates. When the strife was fiercest some one ex- 
pressed surprise at the youth of Mr. Roosevelt. Curtis ob- 
served in his quiet, modulated tones : 

"You'll know more, sir, later ; a deal more, or I am much in 
error. Young? Why, he is just out of school almost, yet he 
is a force to be reckoned with in New York. Later the Nation 
will be criticising or praising him. While respectful to the 



Thcodoru Roosevelt 457 

gray hairs and experience of his elders, none of them can move 
him an iota from convictions as to men and measures once 
formed and rooted. He has integrity, courage, fair scholar- 
ship, a love for public life, a comfortable amount of money, 
honorable descent, the good word of the honest. His political 
life will probably be a turbulent one, but he will be a figure, 
not a figurehead, in future development, — or, if not, it will be 
because he gives up politics altogether." 

HOW ROOSEVELT TAMED MEDORA JIM 

One day a bunch of us were gathered in the office of the 
Bad-Lands Cozvhoy, which I edited and published, in addition 
to running a stage line to the Black Hills and doing a few 
other "stunts" for pleasure and profit. There were only two 
public places in Medora which were not "booze joints." 
Probably for this reason Roosevelt had a habit of dropping 
into one of them, the office of the Cozvboy, and chatting with 
the men who liked to smell printers' ink and feel civilized ; and 
the very fact that Roosevelt frequented the sanctum was a 
guaranty that the place was never lonesome, for he was im- 
mensely popular with the best element there. Occasionally, 
however, some representatives of the wilder sort in the cow- 
country strayed into the Bad-Lands corral, and, on the occa- 
sion to which I refer, one of the real "bad men" of the region 
looked in on us and enlivened the session with a great deal of 
language that hadn't been washed or sheared. 

There was a little lull after Jim's loquacity had run its 
length. Just then I happened to be watching Roosevelt and 
wondering about how much he would stand for in this line. 
He knew, as well as any man in the room, that Jim was the 
real thing when it came to badness, and that it would take 
very little provocation to start him on a stampede that would 
result in his "shooting up the town" according to approved 
"bad man" standards. 



458 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

Suddenly Roosevelt began to "skin his teeth." Looking 
Jim straight in the eye, and speaking in a low, quiet voice,, 
he said: 

"Jim, I like you ; but you are the nastiest talking man I ever 
listened to." 

More than one man in that room caught his breath at these 
words, and instantly every eye there turned to Jim's hand to 
see if it were going to move in the direction of his Colts. But 
the hand did not move, and something like an honest blush of 
shame flushed Jim's cheek. He dropped his chin a little, looked 
sheepish, and then said : 

"I don't belong to your outfit, Mr. Roosevelt, and I'm not 
beholden to you for anything. All the same, I don't mind 
sayin' that mebbe I have been a little too free with my talk." 

That was the first and last time I ever heard a "sure 
'nough bad man" of the old cattle days offer an apology, and I 
do not hesitate to say that if any other man save Theodore 
Roosevelt had made the remark which called out Jim's apology 
he might have been shot on the spot. So long as Roosevelt 
visited Medora, Jim was one of his most loyal friends. 

THE COLONEL'S BEEF-STEW 

An incident illustrating Roosevelt's devotion to the men of 
his Regiment in the Spanish-American War was told by 
Trooper Burkholder, of the Rough Riders, who belongs in 
Phoenix, Arizona. 

"Only us few men who were with him," said Burkholder, 
"know how considerate he was of us at all times. There was 
one case in particular that illustrates this better than any I 
can recall. It happened after the fight at La Quasina. The 
men were tired with the hard march and the fighting, and 
hunger was gnawing at every stomach. Besides we had our 
first men killed there, and, taking it all in all, we were in an 
ugly humor. The usual shouting, cracking of jokes, and 



Theodore Roosevelt 459 

snatches of song were missing, and everybody appeared to be 
in the dumps. 

"Well, things hadn't improved a bit, in fact, were getting 
M^orse along toward meal time, when the Colonel began to 
move about among the men, speaking encouragingly to each 
group. I guess he saw something was up, and no doubt he 
made up his mind then and there to improve at least the humor 
of the men. There's an old saying that a man can best be 
reached through his stomach, and I guess he believes in that 
maxim. Shortly afterward we saw the Colonel, his cook, and 
two of the troopers of Company I strike out along the nar- 
row road toward the town, and we wondered what was up. 

"It was probably an hour or so' after this, and during a 
little resting spell in our work of clearing ground and making 
things a little camp-like, that the savory and almost forgotten 
odor of beef stew began to sweep through the clearing. Men 
who were working stopped short and began to sniff, and those 
who had stopped work for a breathing spell forgot to breathe 
for a second. Soon they joined in the sniffing, and I'll wager 
every one of us was sniffing as hard as he knew how. Oh, 
but didn't that smell fine! We were'nt sure that it was for 
us, but we had a smell of it anyway. Quickly drooping spirits 
revived, and as the fumes of the boiling stew became stronger 
the humor of the men improved. We all jumped to our work 
with a will, and picks, shovels and axes were plied in race- 
horse fashion, while the men would stop now and then to draw 
a long breath and exclaim : 'Wow ! but that smells good.' 

HAD "REAL ONIONS" IN IT 

"We were finally summoned to feed, and then you can im- 
agine our surprise. There was a big boiler and beside it a 
crowd of mess-tent men dishing out real beef stew ! We could 
hardly believe our eyes, and I had to taste mine first to make 
sure it wasn't a dream. You should have seen the expressions 



460 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

on the faces of the men as they gulped down that stew, and 
we all laughed when one New York man yelled out: 'And 
it's got real onions in it, too !' 

"After we had loaded up we began to wonder where it all 
came from and then two Troop I men told how the Colonel 
had purchased the potatoes and onions while his own cook 
secured the meat from Siboney. 

"You probably won't believe it, but the bushel of potatoes 
cost Colonel Roosevelt almost $60, and he had to pay thirty 
odd good American dollars to get the onions, but then he knew 
what his men wanted, and it was always his men first with him. 
There was a rush to his J;ent when we learned this, and if you 
ever heard the cheering I'm sure you wouldn't wonder why 
the Rough Riders all love their Colonel. 

"I see," said Burkholder, "that in his address to the men 
at Camp Wikoff the Colonel told how he had to hurry at the 
San Juan Hill fight to save himself from being run over by 
the men. That's just like him to say that ; but he probably for- 
gets that more than half of the men never ran so fast before 
and never will again, as they had to run to keep up with him. If 
Colonel Roosevelt lived in Arizona we would give him any 
office he wanted without any election nonsense." 

Mason Mitchell, an actor and a member of Troop K, was 
wounded at Santiago on July ist, during the artillery fire just 
before the famous charge of San Juan Hill. He was lying 
down when a piece of shell struck him on the shoulder and 
ploughed its way around, lodging in his right breast. 

"I was just about to rise," he said, "when the shell struck 
me. Pieces of it also struck two other men. It toppled me 
over and sent me sprawling down the hill until I rolled up 
against another Rough Rider, who had been a New York 
policeman. He also was wounded, and we lay there until an- 
other member of my troop named Van Schaick, also a New 
Yorker, came along. He wet his handkerchief from his can- 



WiNFiELD Scott Schli-y 461 

teen and bathed my wounds. After that I was picked up and 
taken to a field hospital and later transferred to Key West. 

''Colonel Roosevelt displayed conspicuous courage, cheering 
on his men, and constantly exposed to the Spanish fire." 

ELIHU ROOT 

NO JURISDICTION OVER CREEKS 

ELIHU ROOT, who recently returned to New York from- 
Washington, is keenly missed in the official family of 
President Roosevelt, where his wit had proved itself a con- 
stant and ever-trustworthy quantity. 

"One of the best instances of his readiness in repartee," says 
Secretary Hitchcock, "was told to me by Root's private secre- 
tary. It happened when a delegation of Creek Indians had 
come east to see me on some matters of importance to them; 
but being misdirected they got by mistake into the War De- 
partment. Of course their interpreter merely asked for the 
Secretary, and the redmen were ushered into Mr. Root's office. 

"What was said and done for the first few minutes must 
have been funny, for the conversation was all at cross-pur- 
poses ; but at last something was dropped which showed what 
the visitors wanted, when quick as a flash Root said : 

" 'Oh, I see ! Gentlemen, you have come to the wrong man. 
I have jurisdiction over navigable rivers, but not over Creeks/ 
and he bowed them out." 

WINFIELD SCOTT SCHLEY 

THE DESTRUCTION OF CERVERA'S FLEET 
ADMIRAL SCHLEY gives the following account of the 
■^^ great battle ofif Santiago : 

"I knew of Cervera's proposed move twenty-four hours be- 
fore the squadron dashed out of the harbor. How did I know 



462 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

it? By intuition. I had studied the situation carefully, and 
was certain that Cervera must move within forty-eight hours. 
I watched every vessel in that fleet for three days before the 
dash was made. I not only watched them, but I knew every 
move they made. 

"You see, we discovered that by watching a certain space 
away across the hills, we could see columns of smoke rise up 
into the air at certain periods. It was not hard to connect this 
smoke with the funnels of the vessels of the squadron, and 
thus I was kept informed as to their whereabouts. Every time 
one of the vessels moved the tell-tale smoke followed her 
course, and so did I. So all the night before the dash was 
made a thousand pairs of sleepless eyes on board our vessels 
watched the mouth of the harbor as a cat watches a mouse. 
Not for one minute did we lose sight of the Spanish squadron. 

''One hour before the Spaniards appeared my quartermaster 
on the Brooklyn reported to me that Cervera's fleet was coaling 
up. This was just what I expected, and we prepared every- 
thing for a hot reception. Away over the hills great clouds 
of smoke could be faintly seen rising up to the sky. A little 
later and the smoke began to move towards the mouth of the 
harbor. The black cloud wound in and out along the narrow 
channel, and every eye on board the vessels in our fleet strained 
with expectation. The boys were silent for a full hour and the 
grim old vessels lay back like tigers waiting to pounce upon 
their prey. Suddenly the whole Spanish fleet shot out of the 
mouth of the channel. It was the grandest spectacle I ever wit- 
nessed. The flames were pouring out of the funnels and as it 
left the channel the fleet opened fire with every gun on board. 
Their guns were worked as rapidly as possible, and shells were 
raining around like hail. 

"It was a grand charge. My first impression was that of a 
lot of maddened bulls, goaded to desperation, dashing at their 
tormentors. The storm of projectiles and shells was the hottest 



WiNFiELD Scott Schley 463 

imaginable. I wondered where they all came from. Just as 
the vessels swung around the Brooklyn opened up with three 
shells, and almost simultaneously the rest of the fleet fired. Our 
volley was a terrible shock to the Spaniards, and so surprised 
them that they must have been badly rattled. When our fleet 
swung around and gave chase, we not only had to face the fire 
from the vessels, but were bothered by a cross-fire from the 
forts on either side, which opened up on our fleet as soon as 
the Spaniards shot out of the harbor. The engagement must 
have lasted three hours, but I hardly knew what time was. I 
remember crashing holes through the Maria Teresa, and giving 
chase to the Colon. 

"I was on the bridge of the Brooklyn during the whole en- 
gagement, and at times the smoke was so dense that I could 
not see three yards ahead of me. The shells from the enemy's 
fleet were whistling around and bursting everywhere, except 
where they could do some damage. 

On another occasion while talking of the destruction, of 
Cervera's fleet ofl; Santiago, Admiral Schley said: "I took it 
for granted that every man on the ship was just as much inter- 
ested in how the fight was going as I was, but the men behind 
the casements, and those below decks, of course, could not see 
what was going on. During the battle I sent orderlies among 
them telling them what was happening, and what eflfect their 
shots were having. 

"Then when the VLxaya struck and only the Colon was 
left, I sent orderlies down to the stoke hole and engine-room, 
where the men were working away like heroes in the terrible 
temperature. 'Now, boys,' I sent them word, 'all depends on 
you. Everything is sunk except the Colon, and she is trying 
to get away. We don't want her to, and everything depends on 
you.' They responded nobly, and we got her." 

Of the death of young Ellis, the only man killed on the 
Brooklyn, the Rear Admiral said: "He was a bright lad, 



464 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

from Brooklyn, who enlisted to go before the mast, but he was 
a hard worker, studied navigation with the younger officers 
of the ship, and had risen to the rank of yeoman. 

"As I stood talking with Captain Cook, while we were fin- 
ishing the Vizcaya, it seemed that our shots were falling a little 
short. I turned to Ellis, who stood near, and asked him what 
the range was. He replied, 'Seventeen hundred yards.' I have 
pretty keen eyesight, and it seldom deceives me as to distances, 
and I told him I thought it was slightly more than that. 'I just 
took it, sir, but I'll try again,' he said, and stepped off to one 
side about eight feet to get the range. 

"He had just raised his instrument to his eye when a shell 
struck him full in the face and carried away all of his head 
above the mouth. A great deal of blood spurted around, and 
the men near were rattled for a moment. 

"Shells are queer things," said the Rear Admiral, after a 
moment's silence. "I noticed one man standing with his hand 
grasping a hammock rail as a shell struck the ship, ricocheted 
and burst. One piece of the metal cut the rail on one side of 
his hand, another on the other side, so that he was left standing 
with a short section of the rail still grasped in his hand. An- 
other portion of the shell passed over his shoulder and another 
between his legs. He was surprised, but wasn't hurt." 

"If we could have gotten by the Brooklyn, and I believed 
we could," said Admiral Cervera to Commodore Schley and 
Captain "Bob" Evans, in the cabin of the lozva, "I could have 
gotten away. My orders to concentrate fire on the Brooklyn 
were carried out, but your ship has a charmed life, sir;" and 
Cervera, with tears in his eyes, added : "My career is ended. 
I shall go back to Spain to be killed or die in disgrace." 

Commodore Schley put out his hand and rested it on Cer- 
vera's shoulder. He speaks Spanish, and the liquid language 
flowed easily as he said : "Admiral, you are a brave man, and 
coming out, as you did, in the face of a superior force, is but 



WiNFiELD Scott Schley 465 

an exemplification of that bravery. Your country can but do 
you honor." 

A BATTLE RELIC FOR ADMIRAL SCHLEY 

A few days after the battle off Santiago a boat's crew with 
diving apparatus was sent from the Brooklyn to examine the 
Infanta Maria Teresa the flag-ship of Admiral Cervera. 
Among the terrible wreckage made by the big guns and the 
exploded magazines, they found a standard compass by which 
the ship was steered, and which had tumbled down with the 
bridge. It was a heavy thing, but they brought it over, and, by 
permission of Captain Cook, presented it to Admiral Schley. 

It was a curious sight and withal a pleasing one to see 
these men, bubbling over with affection for the commander, 
shuffle on to the quarterdeck, where Admiral Schley was read- 
ing. One of the men representing the entire crew, and two 
men following him and carrying the thing, stepped close to the 
Admiral, and then the spokesman, in a stammering way, said: 
"Sir, the crew would like to make you a present." 

Schley was on his feet in an instant, his glasses in his hand 
and his paper on the deck. The spokesman hesitated, 

"Well, my men," said the Admiral, with an encouraging 
smile, and the spokesman hitching at his trousers, continued : 
"We found this compass on the Spanish Admiral's ship, and 
we thought as how we would like to give it to you to remem- 
ber how you whipped them." 

"Well, my men," said the Admiral, with a tremor in his 
voice, "I am much obliged to you, but the great credit of that 
victory belongs to you boys — the men behind the guns. With- 
out you no laurels would come to our country. Thank you." 

There was a hearty three cheers from the men, and the 
gunner's mate, Donnelly, thinking that something should be 
said in answer, touched his cap and blurted out : "We hopes, sir, 
as how you'll steer a straighter course than the other fellow 



466 Capital Stories About Famous Ame;ricans 

who owned it," and there was another approving cheer as the 
men dispersed. 

With the usual twinkle of his eye bejeweled with a tear, the 
Admiral said, as he turned away : "I'd rather have a thing like 
this than the adulations of my entire country." 

PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN 

HOW HE CAME TO BE COLONEL 

OOME years since Stephen W. Lester told in Success the 
^^ story of how Sheridan came to win his star. Lester was an 
eye-witness and tells the story as follows : 

"History holds no brighter page than that which records 
the career of Philip Henry Sheridan, but few there are who 
know how large a part chance played in shaping that career. 
I was an eyewitness of some of the events of which I write, 
and the rest of the story I had in after years from the General's 
own lips. Sheridan was graduated from West Point, in 1853, 
and during the following eight years was in almost continuous 
service at posts beyond the limits of civilization. This fact pro- 
hibited him from forming intimate relations with men in civil 
life able to aid his promotion, nor did he become associated on 
the frontier with any officers who then or afterwards held high 
rank, and who could have assisted a deserving comrade by 
affording him opportunity for distinction. His friends and 
kinsmen in Ohio were of humble station and had no power to 
brighten his prospects. Thus, at the outbreak of the Civil War, 
there were few officers in the army whose chances of obtaining 
high command were so slight as those of the friendless Lieuten- 
ant of foot then occupying a lonely post in Oregon. 

"Indeed, it was not until late in 1861 that Sheridan's first 
opportunity came to him. He was promoted to be Captain in 
the Thirteenth Infantry, a new regular Regiment of which 
William T. Sherman had been made Colonel, and joined his 



Philip Henry Sheridan 467 

new command at Jefferson Barracks, just below St. Louis, in 
November. But he was not to have the field service for which 
he was chafing, without another period of weary waiting. In- 
stead, he was assigned to special duty in the supply department, 
and, after a brief period of service on the staff of General 
Samuel R. Curtis, was sent into Illinois and Wisconsin to pur- 
chase horses. In the meantime the battle of Shiloh was fought, 
and General Henry W. Halleck, leaving St. Louis, assumed 
command in person of the combined armies operating against 
the Confederate stronghold at Corinth. These events made 
Sheridan doubly eager to get near the field of active operations, 
and he found an excuse to return to St. Louis from Chicago, 
where he was buying horses, hoping that something would hap- 
pen to enable him to get to the front. Colonel George Thom, 
who was then chief topographical engineer on General Hal- 
leck's staff, had remained in St. Louis to finish some business, 
but was on the eve of following his chief to Tennessee, when 
he fell in with Captain Sheridan on the street. Sheridan in- 
formed Thom, whom he had known very well in Oregon, of 
his desire for active service. 

" 'Well,' said Thom, 'I am going up the Tennessee to head- 
quarters at once ; come along with me, and I will find work for 
you until something better turns up.' 

"Thereupon, Thom called on Colonel John C. Kelton, whom 
General Halleck had left in charge of headquarters at St. Louis, 
and asked him to issue an order to Sheridan to report to Gen- 
eral Halleck at Pittsburg Landing. Kelton did not want to 
assume the responsibility of ordering Sheridan forward, but 
Thom agreed to shoulder whatever of blame followed, assur- 
ing Kelton that he wanted Sheridan on his own work in 
Tennessee, and would ask General Halleck to assign him. 
Upon that understanding Kelton reluctantly issued the order 
asked for, and Sheridan, on reporting to General Halleck at 
Pittsburg Landing, was assigned to duty under Thom, who 



468 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

put him to work corduroying roads and getting the trains 
up from the landing. It was rough, hard work. 'But,' 
Sheridan tells us in his Memoirs, 'it was near the field of 
active operations, and I determined to do the best I could 
at it till the opportunity for something better might arise.' 
Soon he was made commissary and quartermaster at head- 
quarters, where his work attracted the favorable attention of 
General Halleck; and then came the opportunity that was to 
make him one of the famous captains of modern times. 

"While General Halleck was spading his way toward 
Corinth, Governor Austin Blair of Michigan, arrived to look 
over the troops which he had sent into the field. About this 
time, also, Gordon Granger, who had been Colonel of the Sec- 
ond Michigan Cavalry, was made a Brigadier-General. The 
men of the Second, under his discipline, had become magnifi- 
cent troopers. When he was promoted and the Lieutenant-Col- 
onel assumed command, the Regiment soon showed the need of 
a master at its head. Who was to become its Colonel was a mat- 
ter of serious consideration among the line officers. Most of 
them preferred a regular soldier, with all his harshness and 
crotchets, to a volunteer without any experience. Governor Blair 
was persuaded to take the same view of the matter when he 
visited Pittsburg Landing, and it was finally decided that Gen- 
eral Halleck should be asked to name a good man for the post. 
It was my pleasure and honor to be a bugler in the Second 
Michigan Cavalry, and, being on duty at headquarters, I was 
thus a silent but keenly interested witness to the interview be- 
tween General Halleck and Governor Blair. When the Gov- 
ernor, who was accompanied by some of the officers of the 
Regiment, had made known his errand, General Halleck turned 
to General Ulysses S. Grant, who chanced to be present, and 
asked : 'How would Captain Sheridan do ?' 

" 'He is just the man for them,' was General Grant's reply. 

" 'Convey my compliments to Captain Sheridan,' said Gen- 



Philip Henry Sheridan 469 

eral Halleck, turning to an orderly, 'and tell him that I wish to 
see him at once.' 

"A few minutes later a short, nervous man of thirty or 
thereabouts appeared upon the scene, and, having saluted Gen- 
erals Halleck and Grant, was introduced to Governor Blair 
as Captain Sheridan, 

" 'Captain,' said the Governor, 'these gentlemen you see 
with me are officers of the Second Michigan Cavalry. General 
Granger, as you probably know, has been their Colonel, and they 
have got along so well that, now that he has left them, they 
want another educated soldier in his place. General Halleck 
and General Grant here have been good enough to recommend 
you for the post, and it is yours.' 

''Sheridan's eyes kindled at this unexpected news, and a 
rosy glow came into his face. 

" 'Governor,' said he, 'I thank you for the honor you have 
done me, and promise you that, while I am its Colonel, the 
guidons of the Second Michigan shall never trail in the dust.' 

"A jolly time followed at General Halleck's headquarters, 
and one officer most enthusiastic, as he put his glass to his lips, 
said : 'Here's to Phil, and here is to the star he will soon win.' 

" 'No, gentlemen,' Sheridan retorted, 'my ambition is satis- 
fied. I am now a Colonel of cavalry, and that is all the rank I 
desire or expect.' 

"That was May 26, 1862. The next day Sheridan joined his 
Regiment, and a week later was given command of a Cavalry 
Brigade with headquarters at Booneville, Missouri. His future 
was then in his own hands, and he took good care of it, shovy- 
ing in his first independent battle that strength of resource in 
the heat of a contest of which he was master. That battle was 
fought under conditions as exacting as were ever imposed upon 
a soldier. The entire force under his command numbered less 
than eight hundred men when, on July i, 1862, he was at- 
tacked by four thousand, five hundred mounted Confederates 



470 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

tinder Chalmers. After a brave resistance, he fell back to 'an 
advantageous position on the edge of a swamp,' where he could 
hold his assailants at bay. Finding, however, that the enemy- 
was passing around his left and threatening his camp, he de- 
termined to make a bold dash on the right and convert the de- 
fense into an offensive movement. Selecting four of his best 
saber companies, he sent them several miles around the enemy's 
left to attack in rear and flank, while he was to make a simul- 
taneous charge in front. The plan worked admirably. The 
four companies appeared suddenly in the enemy's rear, not 
having been seen till near enough to fire their carbines ; and, 
having emptied these, they charged with drawn sabers on the 
astonished enemy, who took them for the advance guard of 
a much larger force. Before the enemy could recover from the 
confusion of this attack, they were fiercely charged by Sheridan 
with his remaining handful of men, and fled from the field." 

This brilliant affair, in which two small Regiments defeated 
nine, won for Colonel Sheridan the admiration and respect of 
his superiors, along with his first star, his commission as a 
Brigadier-General dating from the battle of Booneville. He 
was not commissioned Colonel of the Second Michigan until 
after the war. A little more than four months from the day 
when, as an infantry Captain, he began corduroying roads at 
Pittsburg Landing, Sheridan was in command of a division of 
five thousand men which he led into the battle of Perryville. 
The rest is history. 

ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS 

A SPEECH THAT MADE A REPUTATION 

T fourteen years of age, the death of his parents having 



A 



left Alexander H. Stephens in possession of a small sum 
of money, he attended school for a year, but began to consider 
it useless to continue without means to commence a regular 



Alexander H. Stephens 471 

course in preparation for some profession. He realized that 
he never would be strong enough to do much heavy farm 
work, and his highest ambition was then to educate himself 
sufficiently to become a merchant's clerk, and thus earn money 
enough to continue his studies ; for, as he says, "I had already 
acquired a thirst for knowledge which nothing but a little 
money prevented me from satisfying." 

The next week, happening to attend Sunday school in a 
neighboring township, he met the superintendent, Mr. Mills, 
who urged him to continue his studies, and, noticing the boy's 
eagerness, offered to send him to the Washington, Georgia, 
Academy. 

Young Stephens at once accepted the offer, and, in a few 
months, by his diligence, had prepared himself to enter the 
University of Georgia, at Athens, where he ranked first in his 
class during the four years of his course. After leaving the 
University, at nineteen, he taught a private school for a year, 
receiving a salary of $500, but refused an offer of $1,500 to 
teach a year, as he did not think himself suited for that work. 
After due consideration, he decided to be a lawyer, and to this 
end he read Blackstone's Commentaries, and prepared himself, 
untutored, so thoroughly that, in three months, he was ad- 
mitted to the bar for the northern circuit of Georgia. 

His health was always poor, and his body so frail that the 
work he accomplished was nothing short of wonderful, and 
his record under such circumstances but emphasizes the fact 
that, by a right spirit of determination, we can, to a great ex- 
tent, become the architects and builders of our own fortunes. 
Young Stephens, when he had attained his majority, weighed 
only ninety-four pounds. Perhaps there is nothing else so dis- 
couraging to ambition and attainment as continued ill health; 
but sickness, to Alexander H. Stephens, served but as a goad, 
nerving him to take advantage of every wind of fortune to 
assist him on his course. Often a whole night was spent over 



472 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

a law book. He had begun to feel that divine discontent that 
urged him to feel satisfied with nothing but his best efforts. 
At that time he wrote in his diary : "My desires do not stop 
short of the highest places of distinction. And yet, how can I 
effect my purpose? I am poor and have no friends, and have 
no prospect of increasing my means, while time is passing with 
rapid flight, and I effecting nothing. My soul is bent upon 
success in my profession." 

But in spite of this rather gloomy view of himself, he was 
accomplishing much, for he was mastering his profession and 
getting in touch with men and affairs by his habits of observa- 
tion and by a thorough reading of the one newspaper he could 
afford to take. 

At twenty-two, he had won his first case in court, though 
opposed by an able lawyer. The case was an important one, 
as it involved the custody of a child. In speaking of the young 
lawyer's able plea, a relative of the defeated party said : "When 
that little fellow began to argue and all the Judges fell to cry- 
ing, I knew that Isaac would have to give up Martha Ann !" 
That speech made Alexander H. Stephens' reputation, enabling 
him to rank with the first lawyers of Georgia. He was soon 
elected to the State Legislature, and at thirty-one his district 
first sent him to Congress, where he became one of the fore- 
most members. 



H 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE 

GENIUS BUDDING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 
ARRIET BEECHER STOWE began her literary work 



which was to bring her so much fame under difficulties 
which would have been prohibitive to most women. 

Professor Stowe's salary was small, and their means 
straitened, so that his wife kept but one assistant in household 
affairs, "Miss Anna," the young woman who for years was a 



Harriet Beecher Stowe 473 

faithful nurse to the children and has ever been kindly remem- 
bered by the whole family. It is related by a sister-in-law, 
that one morning, when this girl had been sent out upon an 
errand, Mrs. Stowe was trying to get through some household 
work, and three babies, none of them yet able to walk, were 
crying upon the floor. Mother Beecher, the Doctor's third 
wife, who had been a Mrs. Jackson, of Boston, came in just 
then and after helping to pacify the screaming twins, and the 
sobbing boy who vociferated for his mother was taken in her 
arms, Mrs. Beecher suggested to Mrs. Stowe that she might 
employ her talents to better effect, than in doing housework. 
''Try writing for the magazines again. I am sure you could 
succeed, and by far less labor and much pleasanter occupation, 
you can earn enough to pay a woman to do the work." Mrs. 
Stowe acted upon the advice and soon found acceptance for 
her pen creations, which helped wonderfully in lightening the 
burdens of her daily life. 

THE BIRTH OF "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN" 

Florence Thayer McCray, in her interesting Life of Mrs. 
Stozve gives the following account of the source of the im- 
pulse and creation of Uncle Tom's Cabin : 

"Dr. Gamelial Bailey, who had been driven from Cincin- 
nati under such aggravating circumstances some years before, 
had in 1847 established a journal, The National Bra at Wash- 
ington, D. C, which became one of the leading organs of the 
anti-slavery party. He was a man of literary predilections and 
was wise enough to secure for his magazine the influence of 
the best writers. He had associated with himself as assietant 
or correponding editor, John G. Whittier, a young man who 
had served his apprenticeship in the poet's corner of Garri- 
son's Free Press, in Thayer's Philadelphia Gazette, and as 
editor of the American Manufacturer, and the Gazette of 
Haverhill, Mass. He had suffered for his opinions as ex- 



474 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

pressed in The Liberator, and spoken in ringing tones in his 
poems, which are properly called Voices of freedom, in several 
journals and at all needful times. In the first volumes of The 
National Era, may be found many of his grandest poems, and 
also the poems of the Gary sisters, Lucy Larcom, and the 
bright and witty articles of Grace Greenwood, whom Dr. 
Bailey had early called to his aid. 

"In perusing this magazine Mrs. Stowe noticed the inci- 
dent of a slave woman escaping with her child across the 
floating ice of the river, from Kentucky into Ohio, and it be- 
came the first salient point of her great work and is seen in the 
history of Eliza. She began to meditate and dream over a possi- 
ble story that should graphically set forth the bare ugliness, 
and repulsive features of the system of negro slavery. The 
black husband who remained in Kentucky, going back and 
forth on parole and remaining in bondage rather than forfeit 
his word of honor to his master, suggested the character of 
Uncle Tom. Once suggested, the scenes of the story began 
rapidly to form in her mind, and as they are prone to do in the 
practical forces of energetic character, emotions and impres- 
sions instantly crystalized into ideas and opinions. The whole 
wonderful scheme was defined, before the author of Uncle 
Tom's Cabin put her pen to paper. She has related that the 
closing scene, the death of Uncle Tom, came to her as a ma- 
terial vision while sitting at the Communion one Sunday in 
the little church at Brunswick. She was perfectly overcome 
by it, and could scarcely restrain the violent emotion that 
sprang into tears and shook her frame. She was carried out of 
herself. 

"Aristotle wrote, 'No great genius was ever without some 
mixture of madness, nor can anything grand or superior be 
spoken except by the agitated soul.' It was the fire of out- 
raged feeling which inspired this memorable work. She 
hastened home and wrote, and, her husband being away, she 




ARTEMUS WARD 


MARK TWAIN 


SIMEON FORD 


BRET HARTE 




BILL NYE 



Harriet Bi;e:che;r Stowe; 477 

read it aloud to her older children. Her burning sentences 
so touched their young hearts that they wept with her, and 
cried out that slavery was the most accursed thing in the world. 
Some days afterwards Professor Stowe, having returned, was 
passing through her room, and noticing many sheets of closely 
written paper upon his wife's table, he took them up and began 
to read. His casual curiosity soon merged into interest and 
deepened into astonishment. He sought his wife with words 
of enthusiastic praise, and said, 'You can make something out 
of this.' 

" 'I mean to,' was the quiet reply of his wife. From this 
time on, Harriet Beecher Stowe was possessed by the theme; 
it dominated all other concerns, and held her a willing captive 
until it was done. She said a year or two before her death, 
'I did not think of doing a great thing, I did not want to be 
famous. It came upon me, and I diti as I must, and perforce, 
wrote it out, but I was only as the pen in the hands of God. 
What there is good and powerful in it came from Him. I was 
merely the instrument. It is strange that he should have 
chosen me, hampered and bound down as I was with feeble 
health and family cares. But I had to do it.' 

"A glance at her domestic situation may give an idea of 
what it was to undertake the writing of a book at this time. 
Mrs. Stowe was the mother of six children, the youngest of 
whom was then a babe of a few months. He was born in the 
spring of 1851, and it was during the following summer and 
fall that this great labor was performed. Mrs. Stowe, in addi- 
tion to her own little flock had a number of pupils whom she 
had taken into her family, and her father, the famous^ Lyman 
Beecher had come on from Cincinnati, and was occupied with 
the revision and publication of one of his books, and he and his 
step-daughter, Mrs. Laura Dickinson, who acted as his 
amanuensis, became members of the Stowe household. Cater- 
ing to and caring for the comfort of this large family, which 



478 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

comprised more than a dozen members, of all ages, from the 
venerable doctor to his tiny, helpless grandson, would seem to 
be quite enough for one frail little woman to do. In her posi- 
tion as Professor's wife there were also various duties as 
hostess and entertainer constantly incumbent upon her, but she 
was not discouraged. Her vocation was upon her and most 
nobly she assumed it. She has said, 'I knew my work must 
be done, my children cared for, dinner prepared and put upon 
the table and a thousand and one things seen to, but this was 
always uppermost in my mind, and it got itself done, some- 
how.' 

"Scenes, incidents and conversations rushed upon her with 
such vivid clearness and strength that they could not be de- 
nied. During her varied domestic and maternal duties, the 
idea ran on, an undercurrent of logical argument illustrated 
with suggestive incidents, and she could hardly wait to get at 
her pen and fix it upon paper, as she sat with her portfolio 
on her knee by the kitchen fire, in the moments snatched from 
her domestic duties. 

"Harriet Beecher Stowe had none of the dependence upon 
small accessories, which was a peculiarity of authors as great 
as Wordsworth, who when writing, habitually fingered the 
button of his coat ; Ben Johnson, who inhaled clouds of his be- 
loved snuff, and Schiller, who could not get inspiration without 
the aroma of half-decayed apples which he kept in the drawer 
of his desk, to the discomfiture of his friend Goethe, who was 
made extremely ill when once attempting to write thereon. 

"Her theme was sulificient stimulus, and no particular con- 
ditions were necessary to the easy working of her mind. A 
friend who had an intimate knowledge of her literary methods 
recently said to the writer concerning the author of Uncle 
Tom's Cabin: 'When the inspiration came, and she was in the 
midst of a thrilling or pathetic scene, she sat with her manu- 
script on her knee and wrote, no matter what were the dis- 



Harriet Beeiciier Stowe; 479 

tractions.' This power of self-withdrawal is a rare gift even 
among the greatest of novelists. Silence, comfort, and seclu- 
sion are the indispensable conditions for most writers. As 
Lowell says : 

" 'Thy work unfinished, bolt and bar the door ; 
Where they see tzvo the sky-gods come no more.' 

" 'The book,' as Professor Stowe once said, 'was written 
in sorrow, in sadness, and obscurity, with no expectation of re- 
ward save the prayers of the poor, and with a heart almost 
broken in view of the sufferings which it describes, and the 
still greater suffering which it dared not describe.' 

"When two or three chapters were written, Mrs. Stowe 
sent a letter to Dr. Bailey, of the National Bra, telling him 
she had projected a story which might run through several 
numbers of the paper, and offering it to him if he desired it. 
He instantly applied for it, and the weekly installments were 
started. The story, and her duty on this subject were so much 
more real and imperative to her than any other thing in life, 
that the copy was all ready for the type-setters. In shaping 
her material Mrs. Stowe had but one object; to show the 
system of slavery as it existed. No idea of sensational success 
would permit her to exaggerate or pervert facts. She had, 
however, the tact to preceive that its presentation in unrelieved 
gloom of sadness, would not command readers. She therefore 
summoned all her experience of the wit and drollery of the 
African race, at the same time developing a sincere desire to 
show that the evils of slavery were the natural outgrowth of a 
bad system which retaliated upon its victims, and its adminis- 
trators, many of whom were not to blame, with almost equally 
baleful force. 

REJECTED BY PUBLISHERS 

"While Uncle Tom's Cabin was in course of publication in 
the Bra Mrs. Stowe proposed its publication in book form, to 



480 Capitai, Storie;s About Famous Americans 

Messrs. Phillips and Sampson of Boston. They respectfully 
declined the proposition, but about that time a young Boston 
publisher, Mr. John P. Jewett, recognizing its strength and 
possible future as a bone of contention, made overtures to her 
for its publication. He remarked to Professor Stowe that in 
his opinion it would bring his wife 'something handsome.' 
Upon hearing this Mrs. Stowe repHed, with a twinkle in her 
eyes, she hoped it would bring her enough to purchase what 
she had not had for a long time, a new silk dress. Mr. Jewett 
reminded her that it was an unpopular subject, and while a 
small volume might sell, he should not feel warranted in bring- 
ing out a large work. Mrs. Stowe tersely answered that he 
must act his own judgment in that matter, that she could not 
abridge or curtail her work. That the story made itself and 
when it was finished, she would stop. 

THE CLOUDS FOLLOWED BY SUNSHINE 

"Not until the last chapters of Uncle Tom's Cabin were 
written and the last sheets were folded and sent to the post- 
office by a trusty messenger, did she realize how great had been 
the strain upon her body, heart and mind. It was only when 
the last page of proof was examined and corrected, that the 
exaltation and creative fire which had for so many months 
possessed the author of Uncle Tom's Cabin, fell and died out, 
leaving her in despair, trembling and quite cast down. Be- 
cause she feared the results to her personally, because she 
dreaded impending events, because she lost belief in the truth 
and justice of the cause which she had thus presented? Not 
for an instant. It was that it seemed so hopeless to reach the 
hearts of the people, so futile to remonstrate and urge a turn- 
ing to the right, so impossible to break down the greed, pre- 
judiced and conventionalism which hedged in this system. 
For some days she lay with closed eyes, inert and plunged in 
reactionary feeling which destroyed hope and courage. But 



Harriet Beech kr Stowe 481 

not for long. Her spirit rose. She felt that she must give her 
work, if possible, a hearing with the best minds of the age. 
She must leave nothing undone, which even remotely promised 
to further the success of her book. 

"Consequently, she occupied, her time for several weeks 
writing letters, and when the book appeared sent a copy of 
it with her letter to the English Royal Consort, Prince Albert. 
There was another to Thomas Babington Macaulay, whose 
father, Zachary Macaulay, she knew to have been an anti- 
slavery laborer, of whom Mrs. Stowe afterwards said, 'whose 
place in the hearts of the English Christians was little below 
saintship.' Her book was sent, with the hope that the son 
might sympathize. 

"Charles Dickens had more than once expressed his sym- 
pathy with the slave, and to him she wrote, sending her book. 
She addressed another appeal and copy of Uncle Tom's Cabin 
to Charles Kingsley, and another to Lord Carlisle, who had 
been influential in giving freedom to the blacks in the British 
Colonies. 

"Uncle Tom's Cabin was published in book form in March, 
1852. The despondency and uncertainty of the author as to 
whether any one would read her book, was soon dispelled. 
Ten thousand copies were sold in a few days, and over three 
hundred thousand within a year. Eight powerful presses run- 
ning day and night for months were barely able to keep pace 
with the demand for it. It was read everywhere, by all classes 
of people. Talk of it filled the atmosphere. Heated discus- 
sions occasioned by it, resounded in cottage, farm-house, busi- 
ness office and palatial residences, all over the land. The pity, 
distress, and soul-felt indignation in which it had been writ- 
ten, were by it transferred to the minds and consciences of her 
readers, and the antagonism it everywhere engendered, threw 
the social life of this country and England, into angry effer- 
vescence through all its stratas. 



482 Capital Storie;s About Famous Ame;ricans 

"Within a year Uncle Tom's Cabin was scattered all over 
the world. Translations were made into all the principal lan- 
guages and into several obscure dialects, in number variously 
estimated from twenty to forty. The librarian of the British 
Museum, with an interest and enterprise which might well put 
our own countrymen to blush, has made a collection which is 
unique and very remarkable in the history of books. Ameri- 
can visitors may see there, thirty-five editions of the original 
English and the complete text, and eight of abridgments and 
adaptations. Of translations into different languages there 
are nineteen ; viz., Armenian i ; Bohemian i ; Danish 2 distinct 
versions ; Dutch i ; Finnish i ; Flemish i ; French 8 distinct 
versions and 2 dramas ; German 5 distinct versions and 4 
abridgments; Hungarian i complete version, i for children 
and I versified abridgment ; Illyrian 2 distinct versions ; Ital- 
ian I ; Polish 2 distinct versions ; Portuguese i ; Roman or 
Modern Greek 1 ; Russian 2 distinct versions ; Spanish 6 dis- 
tinct versions ; Swedish i ; Wallachian 2 distinct versions ; 
Welsh 3 distinct versions. 

"At the end of the first six months. Professor Stowe one 
day tore open a letter from Mr. Jewett, the publisher of Uncle 
Tom's Cabin, and found enclosed a check for ten thousand dol- 
lars, which the sender begged him to accept as the first install- 
ment of the author's royalty on Uncle Tain's Cabin. 'Why, 
Harriet,' said he, 'it is more money than I ever saw in all my 
life.' " 

CHARLES SUMNER 

NO WOMAN NEED APPLY 

TTT W. STORY has preserved an amusing instance of the 

^ ^ • young law-student's absorption in the pursuit of 

knowledge and of his preference for the society of men over 

that of women. "Of all men I ever knew at his age," says Mr. 



T. De Witt Talmage 483 

Story, "he was the least susceptible to the charms of women. 
Men he liked best, and with them he preferred to talk. It was 
in vain for the loveliest and liveliest girl to seek to absorb his 
attention. He would at once desert the most blooming beauty 
to talk to the plainest of men. This was a constant source of 
amusement to us, and we used to lay wagers with the pretty 
girls, that with all their^art they could not keep him at their side 
a quarter of an hour. Nor do I think we ever lost one of these 
bets. I remember particularly one dinner at my father's house, 
when it fell to his lot to take out a charming woman, so hand- 
some and full of esprit that anyone at the table might well have 
envied him his position. She had determined to hold him cap- 
tive, and win her bet against us. But her efforts were all in 
vain. Unfortunately, on his other side was a dry old savant,. 
packed with information ; and within five minutes Sumner had 
completely turned his back on his fair companion, and engaged 
in a discussion with the other, which lasted the whole dinner. 
We all laughed. She cast up her eyes deprecatingly, acknowl- 
edged herself vanquished, and paid her bet. He had what he 
wanted — sensible men's talk. He had mined the savant, as he 
mined everyone he met, in search of ore, and was thoroughly 
pleased with what he got." 

T. DE WITT TALMAGE 

EMANCIPATION FROM MANUSCRIPT 

A DELIGHTFUL little reminiscence from Dr. Talmage's 
own pen, probably somewhat antedating his Belleville ex- 
perience, is worth recalling here. It may serve as a hint to 
other young and aspiring preachers, who cherish dreams of 
becoming famous as "eloquent divines." 

"We entered the ministry," he writes, "with a mental 
horror of extemporaneous speaking. Each week we wrote 
two sermons and a lecture all out, from the text to the amen. 



484 CapitaIv Stories About Famous Americans 

We did not dare to give out the notice of a prayer-meeting' 
unless it was on paper. We were a slave to manuscript, and 
the chains were galling ; and three months more of such work 
would have put us in the graveyard. We resolved on emanci- 
pation. The Sunday night was approaching when we expected 
to make violent rebellion against this bondage of pen and 
paper. We had an essay about ten minutes long on some 
Christian subject, which we proposed to preach as an introduc- 
tion to the sermon, resolved, at the close of that brief composi- 
tion, to launch out on the great sea of extemporaneousness. 

"It so happened that the coming Sabbath night was to be 
eventful in the village. The trustees of the church had been 
building a gasometer back of the church, and the night I speak 
of the building was for the first time to be lighted in the 
modern way. The church was, of course, crowded — not so 
much to hear the preacher as to see how the gas would burn. 
Many were unbelieving, and said that there would be an ex- 
plosion, or a big fire, or that in the midst of the service the 
lights would go out. Several brethren, disposed to hang on 
to old customs, declared that candles and oil were the only fit 
material for lighting a church, and they denounced the innova- 
tion as indicative of vanity on the part of the newcomers. 
They used oil in the ancient temple, and it was that which ran 
down on Aaron's beard, and anything that was good enough 
for the whiskers of an old-time priest was good enough for a 
country meeting-house. These sticklers for the oil were pres- 
ent that night, hoping — and I think some of them secretly 
praying — that the gas might go out. 

"With our ten-minute manuscript we went into the pulpit, 
all in a tremor. Although the gas did not burn as brightly 
as its friends had hoped, still it was bright enough to show the 
people the perspiration that stood in beads on our forehead. 
We began our discourse, and every sentence gave us the feeling 
that we were one step nearer the gallows. We spoke very 



T. De Witt Talmagk 485 

slowly, so as to make the ten-minute notes last fifteen minutes. 
During the preaching of the brief manuscript we concluded that 
we had never been called to the ministry. We were in a hot 
bath of excitement. People noticed our trepidation, and sup- 
posed it was because we were afraid the gas would go out. Alas ! 
our fear was that it would not go out. As we came toward 
the close of our brief we joined the anti-gas party, and prayed 
that before we came to the last written line something would 
burst and leave us in the darkness. Indeed, we discovered an 
encouraging flicker amid the burners, which gave us the hope 
that the brief which lay before us would be long enough for all 
practical purposes, and that the hour of execution might be 
postponed to some other night. As we came to the sentence 
next to the last the lights fell down to half their size, and we 
could just manage to see the audience as they were floating 
away from our vision. We said to ourselves, 'Why can't 
these lights be obliging and go out entirely?' The wish was 
gratified. As we finished the last line of our brief, and stood 
on the verge of rhetorical destruction, the last glimmer of light 
was extinguished. 'It is impossible to proceed," we cried out ; 
'receive the benediction !' 

"We crawled down the pulpit in a state of exhilaration ; 
we never before saw such handsome darkness. The odor of 
the escaping gas was to us like 'gales from Araby.' Did a 
frightened young man ever have such fortunate deliverance? 
The providence was probably intended to humble the trustees, 
yet the scared preacher took advantage of it. 

"But after we got home we saw the wickedness of being 
in such dread. As the Lord got us out of that predicament, 
we resolved never again to be cornered in one similar. Forth- 
with the thraldom was broken, we hope never again to be felt. 
How demeaning that a man with a message from the Lord 
Almighty should be dependent upon paper-mills and gas- 
ometers !" 



486 CapitaIv Storif.s About Famous Americans 
MARK TWAIN 

HIS GOOD TURN TO GENERAL GRANT 

TTAMILTON GARLAND told in the Success Magazine 
-*--*- some years ago an exceedingly interesting story of how 
Mark Twain, as the world knows him best, or Mr. Samuel L. 
Clemens, as he was christened, served General U. S. Grant a 
good turn. It was in the fall of 1880, Garland tells us, when 
Mr. Clemens, calling on General Grant, said to him : "General, 
why don't you write your memoirs ?" 

"Oh, I'm not a writer," replied the General ; "I am not 
fitted for that. Sherman could write, and so could Hallock, 
but I have no gift that way." 

Mr. Clemens took issue with him, and said that it was his 
duty to do so, as there were points concerning the war which 
only the principal actor in it could clear up. "As you know, 
General, I have some books published myself, and I know my 
publishers would be very glad to take up your book at any 
time. I am not connected with them in any way, except as an 
author, but I am sure they would do very well by you. If you 
like, I will present the matter for you." 

The General, however, seemed to consider such a book 
quite out of the question, and nothing further was said about 
it. Mr. Clemens went abroad soon afterward, and did not re- 
turn for several years. Immediately upon his return he heard 
of General Grant's condition, which was at that time deplora- 
ble. Ferdinand Ward had failed, involving the General and 
his sons and many of their friends in a most disgraceful finan- 
cial entanglement. In addition to this, the General himself was 
ill and rapidly growing old. 

One rainy night in the autumn, as Mr. Clemens was leaving 
a theatre on Broadway, he heard a voice which was entireh 
strange to him utter these suggestive words, "They say Gen- 
eral Grant is going to write his memoirs, after all." 



Mark Twain 487 

Mr. Clemens saw neither the man nor his companion, but 
regarded the voice as essentially providential. He was at that 
time a partner in the extremely successful firm of Charles L. 
Webster and Company, and considered himself in luck to have 
heard so early in the transaction the news of General Grant's 
intention to write the book. 

Early the next morning he sent in his card at the General's 
residence, and was received by the latter in the library, where 
he was evidently at work at that very time upon the story of 
his life. The house in which he lived was on Sixty-sixth 
Street, near Central Park, and, being quite feeble at the time, 
he spent most of his days at home. 

"Well, General," said Mr. Clemens, "I hear that you are 
writing your story, after all?" 

"Yes, I've written three chapters already, and the editors 
seem to like them very well. The fact is," he added, with a 
look that expressed a certain timidity, "I'm glad to be able to 
earn a little money in this way, just now." 

"I hope you'll get well paid for them," said Mr. Clemens. 

"I think I'm very well paid," he replied ; "I get five hundred 
dollars apiece for them." 

Mr. Clemens expressed great surprise. "Why, General, 
you can't afford to let that matter go at that rate. Five thou- 
sand dollars would be cheap for them." 

The General remained unmoved. "I'm getting more than 
Sherman got," he replied, quietly, "and I'm satisfied." 

"What about the book ?" inquired Mr. Clemens, seeing that 
the General was indeed thoroughly satisfied with the serial 
rights. 

The General took up a paper which lay on the table before 
him. "I'm about to sign a contract ; here it is." 

Mr. Clemens was deeply interested. "Would you mind 
letting me see that paper, General?" 

"Not at all," the latter replied, handing the document to 



488 CAriTAi, Stories About Famous Americans 

Mr. Clemens, who read it in amazement. At the end he said, 
in his peculiar drawling voice, "General, why don't you just 
give it to them?" 

"I don't understand you?" 

"Why, if I were you," continued Mr. Clemens, "I wouldn't 
bother about any royalty at all." Then, changing his tone and 
becoming serious, he said, ''General Grant, you should have 
four times the royalty named in this paper. This contract is 
absurd; you must not sign away your valuable rights." 

"But, you see," the General explained, "the publishers not 
only give me ten per cent., but they bear all the expenses of 
publication." 

Mr. Clemens was amused and astonished at the General's 
simplicity. "Suppose they do; that's their business. You 
ought to have seventy-five per cent, of all the profits, the pub- 
lishers to do all the work, pay all the advertising, clerk hire, 
and every other expense. Why, General, there is a fortune 
for you in this book, and you must not. allow yourself to be de- 
prived of your just share." 

The General still remained unmoved and unconvinced. 
"They guarantee me twenty-five thousand dollars, which is the 
amount Sherman got, and I'm quite satisfied." 

Mr. Clemens persisted. "The way to test this matter is to 
go to these people with my proposition, demand seventy-five 
per cent, of the profits on the basis I have just named, or 
twenty-two and a half per cent, on subscription sales, — that is, 
sales by agents, — or thirty per cent, on trade sales ; they'll take 
it," concluded Mr. Clemens. 

"You must be mistaken," the General replied, showing that 
what Mr. Clemens said had had its effect ; "no publisher would 
give that." 

Mr. Clemens arose. "I'm a publisher, and I'm here to do 
just that. You try your people on my proposition, and, if they 
don't come to it ; return to me and I'll make my offer good." 



Mark Twain 489 

"I guess I'll let them have it. They guarantee me twenty- 
five thousand dollars out of it, you know," the General said, 
at length, as if the matter were settled. 

Mr. Clemens then said to him, very earnestly: "General, 
you mustn't sacrifice yourself in this way. You are ignorant 
of these matters. You know all about war, and I know a whole 
lot about the book business. You take my advice; you need 
money, and here is a chance to earn money — a great deal of 
money. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do to convince you that 
Fin in earnest ; I'll draw a check right here for fifty thousand 
dollars on your royalty account, and guarantee you as much 
more when the manuscript is put into my hands. I calculate 
you are worth just ten times as much as I am as an author, — 
in this case, at least. I realized, on my last book, upward of 
sixty thousand dollars. Even if you publish at two dollars 
and fifty cents and sell through the trade, you'll get, say, 
seventy-five cents on every copy ; that will make you, say, five 
hundred thousand dollars ; or, to make a conservative estimate, 
we will say three hundred thousand dollars. You see, I've been 
publishing subscription books for twenty years, and I know 
what can be done. Your book will sell on sight, and, in my 
judgment, will sell six hundred thousand copies. There is a 
fortune in the book, and I know it, and I'm willing to guar- 
antee it." 

At this point the Genteral's son. Colonel Frederick D. 
Grant, who had been listening, took the contract from his 
father's hand and said, "Air. Clemens has convinced me that 
we have not sufficiently investigated this matter; we must look 
into it a little further before you sign this paper. I'll go to the 
company at once with a proposition such as Mr. Clemens sug- 
gests, and see what they say." 

"They'll take it," said Air. Clemens, with a smile; "no 
doubt of that." 

The General thanked him for his interest and courtesy, and 



490 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

the interview closed. Mr. Clemens went away, feeling quite sure 
that the other publishers would accept the proposition, and that 
he had helped to put a large sum into the General's hands. 

The publishers listened to Colonel Grant's demands in 
silence, and asked time to consider. It was, they said, a most 
extraordinary royalty, and it was necessary to figure very care- 
fully before returning an answer. In a very few hours, how- 
ever, they replied that they had decided to acquiese in General 
Grant's demands. However, when Colonel Grant brought the 
new contract to his father to sign, the old General very quietly 
said, "No, if the business is to be as profitable as these people 
seem to think it, then it must go to Mr. Clemens, who has en- 
abled us to secure such a splendid oflfer." 

This decision, so characteristic of Grant, remained unaltera- 
ble ; the contract with C. L. Webster and Company was at 
once signed, and the old warrior, weak and suffering from a 
painful ulcer in his throat, set to work in grim earnest. He 
had a premonition of the short time in which he would be 
able to do this work, and he knew now the importance of it. 
He was rearing a bulwark between his wife and children and the 
forces of want, and it was his hope that he might be able, in this 
way, to shield them when he should be no longer in the flesh. 

The firm advanced him money as he needed it, and pushed 
the printing of the book as fast as the manuscript appeared 
from his pen. Everything that could be done to make his 
task easy was done by Mr. Clemens. Many times the humor- 
ist went out of his way to please the General. 

The closing scene of this remarkable transaction took place 
at Mount McGregor, when the old commander was nearing his 
last day on earth. He had finished what he considered the 
important and essential parts of his life's story. His hand 
refused to write any more. The book was almost entirely in 
type, and he was waiting with great eagerness to see it com- 
pleted and from the press. 



Herbert H. Vreeland 491 

Mr. Clemens visited him there for the last time. The Gen- 
eral had gone beyond speech, for the ulcer had developed into a 
malignant cancer, which had at length laid hold upon the vocal 
chords, silencing him forever. He could only write with 
painful care, on a pad which he held on his knee. 

"Well, how is the book coming on?" was his penciled 
inquiry. 

"Very well," replied Clemens ; "it will be out very soon." 

The General wanted to know definitely what might be ex- 
pected from it in the way of exact results. 

To this Mr. Clemens was able to reply, "General, there is 
in the bank, now, royalty on advance sales aggregating nearly 
three hundred thousand dollars. It is at Mrs. Grant's order. 
General, and you need not fear for her future." 

The General's face lighted with pleasure, and he expressed 
his satisfaction and his warm gratitude to Clemens by gesture 
and by means of the pencil in his hand. 

Mr. Clemens shook hands with the old commander and 
went down the hill feeling deeply pleased to have been able 
thus to comfort a dying man. His own troubles were afar 
ofif, and when they came had nothing to do with the book, the 
sales of which were even greater than he had anticipated. 

Thus it was that General Grant died with the knowledge 
that his wife was provided for far beyond any of his most 
hopeful anticipations. That it was due to the generosity and 
the enthusiasm of Mark Twain there is no shadow of doubt. 

HERBERT H. VREELAND 

THE EVOLUTION OF A RAILROAD MAN 
1\ /f R. VREELAND tells this story of how he worked up 
■^■^ from the ranks as a railroad man : 

"I first entered the railroad business in 1875," said Mr. 
Vreeland, "shoveling gravel on one of the Long Island Rail- 



492 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

road Company's night construction trains. Though this posi- 
tion was certainly humble enough, it was a great thing to me 
then to feel myself a railroad man, with all that that term 
implied; and when, after a few months' trial, I was given the 
job of inspecting ties and roadbed at a dollar a day, I felt that 
I was well on the road to the presidency. 

"One day the Superintendent asked my boss if he could 
give him a reliable man to replace a switchman who had just 
made a blunder leading to a collision, and had been discharged. 
The reply was : 'Well, I've got a man here named Vreeland, 
who will do exactly what you tell him to.' They called me up, 
and, after a few short, sharp questions from the train-master, 
I went down to the dreary and desolate marsh near Bushwick, 
Long Island, and took charge of a switch. For a few days 
I had to camp out near that switch, in any way that might 
happen, but finally the officers made up their minds that they 
could afford me the luxury of a two-by-four flag house with 
a stove in it, and I settled down for more railroading. 

*'The Bushwick station was not far away, and one of the 
company's division headquarters was there. I soon made the 
acquaintance of all the officials around that station and got 
into their good graces by offering to help them out in their 
clerical work at any and all times when I was off duty. It 
was a godsend to them, and exactly what I wanted, for I 
had determined to get into the inside of the railroad business 
from bottom to top. Many's the time I have worked till 
eleven or twelve o'clock at night in that little station, figuring 
out train receipts and expenses, engine cost and duty, and 
freight and passenger statistics of all kinds; and, as a result 
of this work, I quickly acquired a grasp of railroad details 
in all stages, which few managers possess, for, in one way and 
another, I got into and through every branch of the business. 

"My Bushwick switch was a temporary one, put in for con- 
struction purposes only, and, after some months' use, was dis- 




JOHN PIERPONT MORGAN THOMAS C. PLATT 

ROBERT FULTON 
THOMAS A. EDISON SAMUEL F. B. MORSE 



He;rbe;rt H. Vreeland 495 

continued, and I was discharged. This did not suit me at all, 
and I went to one of the officials of the road and told him 
that I wanted to remain with the Long Island Railroad Com- 
pany in any capacity whatsoever, and would be obliged to 
him if he would give me a job. He said, at first, that he 
hadn't a thing for me to do, but finally added, as if he was 
ashamed to suggest it, that, if I had a mind to go down on 
another division and sweep out and dust cars, I might do it. 
I instantly accepted, and thereby learned the details of an- 
other important railroad department. 

"Pretty soon they made me brakeman on an early morning 
train to Hempstead, and then I found that I was worth to the 
world, after two years of railroad training, just forty dollars 
a month, plus a perquisite or two obtained from running a 
card-table department in the smoking-cars. I remember that 
I paid eighteen dollars of my munificent salary for board and 
lodging, sent twenty dollars home for the support of my 
mother and sister, and had two dollars a month and the afore- 
said perquisites left for 'luxuries.' 

*'It was at about this time, thus early in my career, that I 
first came to be known as 'President Vreeland.' An old 
codger upon the railroad, in talking to me one day, said, in a 
bantering way: 'Well, I suppose you think your fortune is 
made, now you have become a brakeman, but let me tell you 
what will happen. You will be a brakeman about four or five 
years, and then they will make you a conductor, at about one 
hundred dollars a month, and there you will stick all your 
life, if you don't get discharged.' I responded, rather angrily, 
'Do you suppose I am going to be satisfied with remaining a 
conductor? I mean to be President of a railroad.' Ho, ho, 
ho !' laughed the man. He told the story around, and many a 
time thereafter the boys slyly placed the word 'President' be- 
fore my name on official instructions and packages sent to me. 

"A conductor on one of the regular trains quarreled one 



496 Capital Stories About Famous Ame;ricans 

morning with the superintendent, and was discharged. I was 
sent for and told to take out that train. This was jumping 
me over the heads of many of the older brakemen, and, as a 
consequence, all the brakemen on that train quit. Others were 
secured, however, and I ran the train regularly for a good 
many months. 

"Then came an accident one day, for which the engineer 
and I were jointly responsible. We admitted our responsi- 
bility, and were discharged. I went again to the Superinten- 
dent, however, and, upon a strong plea to be retained in the 
service, he sent me back to the ranks among the brakemen. 
I had no complaint to make, but accepted the consequence of 
my mistake. 

"Soon after this, the control of the road passed into other 
hands. Many were discharged, and I was daily expecting my 
own 'blue envelope.' One day, I was detailed to act as brake- 
man on a special which was to convey the President and Direc- 
tors of the road, with invited guests, on a trip over the lines. 
By that time I had learned the Long Island Railroad in all 
its branches pretty well, and, in the course of the trip, was 
called upon to answer a great many questions. The next day I 
received word that the Superintendent wanted to see me. My 
heart sank within me, for a summons of this kind were omin- 
ous in those days. But I duly presented myself at the office, and 
was asked, 'Are you the good-looking brakeman who was on 
the special yesterday, who shows his teeth when he smiles?' 
I modestly replied that I was certainly on the special yesterday, 
and I may possibly have partly confirmed the rest of the inden- 
tification by a smile, for the Superintendent, without further 
questioning said : 'The President wants to see you, up-stairs.' 

"I went up and in due time was shown into the presence 
of the great man, who eyed me closely for a minute or two, 
and then asked me abruptly what I was doing. I told him I 
was braking Number Seventeen. He said: 'Take this letter 



Lew. Wali^ace 497 

to your Superintendent. It contains a request that he reHeve 
you from duty, and put somebody else in your place. After 
he has done so, come back here.' 

''All this I did, and, on my return to the President, he said, 
'Take this letter at once to Admiral Peyron, of the French 
Fleet, and this to General Hancock on Governor's Island. 
They contain invitations to each to dine with me to-morrow 
night at my home in Garden City with their staffs. Get their 
answers, and, if they are 'Yes,' return at once to New York, 
charter a steamer, call for them to-morrow afternoon, land 
them at Long Island City, arrange for a special train from 
Long Island City to Garden City, take them there, and return 
them after the banquet. I leave everything in your hands. 
Good day,' 

"I suppose this might be considered a rather large job for 
a common brakeman, but I managed to get through with it 
without disgracing myself, and apparently to the satisfaction 
of all concerned. For sometime thereafter, I was the Presi- 
dent's special emissary on similar matters connected with the 
general conduct of the business, and while I did not, perhaps, 
learn so very much about railroading proper, I was put in 
positions where I learned to take responsibility and came to 
have confidence in myself." 

LEW WALLACE 

A RUDE AWAKENING 

GENERAL LEW. WALLACE, according to his own 
words, was a poor student in his young manhood. He 
<Trew tired of his college course after six weeks and returned 
home. But his failure at college furnished the turning-point 
in his career. He says : 

"I shall never forget what my father did when I returned 
home. He called me into his office, and took from a pigeon- 



498 Capital Storie;s About Famous Americans 

hole in his desk a package of papers neatly folded and tied 
with red tape. He was a very systematic man, because, per- 
haps, of his West Point training. The papers proved to be 
the receipts for my tuition, which he had carefully preserved. 
He called off the items, and asked me to add them. The total, 
I confess, staggered me. 

" 'That sum, my son,' he said, with a tone of regret in his 
voice, 'represents what I have expended to provide you with 
a good education. How successful I have been, you know 
better than anyone else.' 

" 'After mature rejection, I have come to the conclusion 
that I have done for you, in that direction, all that can reason- 
ably be expected of any parent ; and I have, therefore, called 
you in to tell you that you have now reached an age when you 
must take up the lines yourself. If you have failed to profit 
by the advantages with which I have tried so hard to surround 
you, the responsibility must be yours. I shall not upbraid you 
for your neglect, but rather pity you for the indifference which 
you have shown to the golden opportunities you have been 
enabled to enjoy through my indulgence.' " 

"What effect did his admonition have on you? Did it 
awaken or arouse you?" General Wallace was asked. 

"It aroused me, most assuredly. It set me to thinking. 
The next day, I set out with a determination to accomplish 
something for myself. My father's injunction rang in my 
ears. New responsibilities rested on my shoulders, as I was, 
for the first time in my life, my own master. I felt that I 
must get work on my own account. 

"After much effort, I finally obtained employment from the 
man with whom I had passed many afternoons strolling up and 
down the little streams in the neighborhood, trying to fish. 
He was the County Clerk, and he hired me to copy what was 
known as the complete record of one of the courts. I worked 
for months in a dingy, half-lighted room, receiving for my 



John Wanamaker 49^ 

pay something like ten cents a hundred words. The tedious- 
ness and the regularity of the work made a splendid drill for 
me, and taught me the virtue of persistence as one of the 
avenues of success. It was at this time I began to realize the 
deficiency in my education, especially as I had an ambition to 
become a lawyer. Being deficient in both mathematics and 
grammar, I was forced to study evenings. Of course, that 
was very exacting, after a full day's hard work; but I was 
made to realize that the time I had spent with such lavish 
prodigality could not be recovered, and that I must extract 
every possible good out of the golden moments then flying by 
all too fast." 

JOHN WANAMAKER 

SUCCESS AS A MERCHANT 

A FRIEND who knew him during the years of his early 
struggles to estabUsh himself in business, writes concern- 
ing their acquaintance: 

"John was certainly the most ambitious boy I ever saw. I 
used to take him to lunch with me, and he used to tell me how 
he was going to be a great merchant. He was very much in- 
terested in the temperance cause, and had not been with me 
long before he persuaded most of the employees in the store 
to join the temperance society to which he belonged. He was 
always organizing something. He seemed to be a natural- 
born organizer. This faculty is largely accountable for his 
great success in after life." 

"So earnest did he become in the work of the Young Men's 
Christian Association, that he was appointed the first salaried 
Secretary of the Philadelphia branch, at a stipend of one thou- 
sand dollars a year. Never since has a Secretary enrolled so 
many members in the same space of time. He passed seven 
years in this arduous work, married a sympathetic and beau- 
tiful girl whom he met at a church service, and at twenty- four 



500 Capitai, Stories About Famous Americans 

yielded to the fever of ambition and once more plunged into 
money-making. 

"This is the most interesting period of his life, for it 
proved his mettle in more ways than one. With Nathan 
Brown, his brother-in-law, in April, 1861, he rented the store 
at the southeast corner of Sixth and Market Streets, and pur- 
chased a small stock of clothing and furnishing goods. The 
partners had a capital of only three thousand, five hundred 
dollars. They could not afford a horse and wagon, so John 
purchased a two-wheeled push-cart and delivered his first order 
himself. The profits of that first day's business amounted to 
just thirty-six dollars. The young partners invested every 
cent of it in an advertisement in the Philadelphia Inquirer 
next day." 

A MEMORY OF ALEXANDER T. STEWART 

Concerning the late Alexander T. Stewart, Mr. Wana- 
maker said, in an interview with Frank G. Carpenter, re- 
cently : 

"A. T. Stewart was a genius. I have been surprised 
again and again as I have gone through the Broadway and 
Tenth Street (New York) building, walking in that dead 
man's shoes, to find what a knowledge he had of the needs of 
a mercantile establishment. Mr. Stewart put up a building 
which is to-day, I believe, better arranged than any of the 
modern structures which are being erected. He seemed to 
know just what was needed. I met him often when I was a 
young man. I used to buy goods of him, and I have reason 
to think that he took a liking to me. One day, I remember, 
I was in his woolen department buying some stuffs for my 
store here, when he came up to me and asked if I would be in 
the store for fifteen minutes longer. I replied that I would. 
At the end of fifteen minutes he returned and handed me a 
slip of paper, saying: 



Arte M us Ward 501 

" 'Young man, I understand that you have a mission school 
in Philadelphia ; use that for it.' 

"Before I could reply he had left. I looked down at the 
slip of paper. It was a check for one thousand dollars." 

ARTEMUS WARD 

THE STORY OF A LECTURE 

ARTEMUS WARD'S friend, Melville D. Landon, "Eli 
-^^ Perkins," depicts him, as he gave a lecture in London: 

"During the lecture, Artemus was as solemn as the grave. 
Sometimes he seemed to forget his audience, and stood gazing 
intently at his panorama. Then he would start up and say : 

" 'If you should feel dissatisfied with anything here to- 
night, I will admit you all free in New Zealand, — if you will 
come to me there for orders. Any respectable cannibal will 
tell you where I live. This shows that I have a forgiving 
spirit. I really don't care for money. I only travel round 
to see the world and to exhibit my clothes. These clothes 
I have on were a great success in America. 

" 'How often do large fortunes ruin young men ! I should 
like to be ruined, but I can get on very well as I am. I am 
not an artist. I don't paint myself — though perhaps, if I were 
a middle-aged lady, I should, — yet I have a passion for pic- 
tures — I have had a great many pictures — photographs — taken 
of myself. Some of them are very pretty, rather sweet to 
look at for a short time, — and, as I said before, I like them. 
I've always loved pictures. I could draw on wood at a very 
tender age. When a mere child, I once drew a small cartload 
of raw turnips over a wooden bridge. The people of the village 
noticed me. I drew their attention. They said I had a future 
before me. Up to that time, I had an idea it was behind me. 

" 'Time passed on. It always does, by the way. You may 
possibly have noticed that time passes on. It is a kind of 



502 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

way time has. I became a man. I haven't distinguished myself 
at all as an artist — but I have always been more or less mixed 
up with art. I have an uncle who takes photographs — and I 
have a servant who takes — anything he can get his hands on, 

" 'When I was in Rome — Rome in New York State, I mean, 
— a distinguished sculpist wanted to sculp me. But I said 
'No!' I saw through the designing man. My model once in 
his hands — he would have flooded the market with my busts — 
and I couldn't stand it to see everybody going around with a 
bust oi me. Everybody would want one, of course — and 
wherever I should go I should meet the educated classes with 
my bust, taking it home to their families. This would be more 
than my modesty could stand — and I should have to return to 
America — where my creditors are. I like Art, I admire dra- 
matic Art, — although I failed as an actor. It was in my 
schoolboy days that I failed as an actor. The play was 'The 
Ruins of Pompeii' — I play the Ruins. It was not a very suc- 
cessful performance — but it was better than the 'Burning 
Mountain.' He was not good. He was a bad Vesuvius. 

" 'The remembrance often makes me ask : 'Where are the 
boys of my youth?' I assure you this is not a conundrum. 
Some are amongst you here — some are in America — some are 
in jail. Hence arises a most touching question : 'Where are 
the girls of my youth ?' Some are married — some would like 
to be. Oh, my Maria ! Alas ! she married another. They 
frequently do. I hope she is happy — because I am. Some 
people are not happy — I have noticed that. 

" 'A gentleman friend of mine came to me one day with 
tears in his eyes. I said, 'Why these weeps ?' He said he had 
a mortgage on his farm — and wanted to borrow two hundred 
pounds. I lent him the money — and he went away. Some- 
time after, he returned with more tears. He said he must 
leave me forever. I ventured to remind him of the two hun- 
dred pounds he borrowed. He was much cut up. I thought 



I 



Arte; M us Ward 503 

I would not be hard on him— so I told him I would throw off 
one hundred pounds. He brightened up, shook my hand, and 
said : 'Old friend, I won't allow you to outdo me in liberality. 
I'll throw off the other hundred.' 

" 'As a manager, I was always rather more successful than 
as an actor. Some years ago, I engaged a celebrated living 
American skeleton for a tour through Australia. He was the 
thinnest man I ever saw. He was a splendid skeleton. He 
didn't weigh scarcely anything; and I said to myself: 'The 
people of Australia will flock to see this tremendous curiosity. 
It is a long voyage, as you know, from New York to Mel- 
bourne, and, to my utter surprise, the skeleton had no sooner 
got out to sea than he commenced eating in a most horrible 
manner. He said he had never been on the ocean before, and 
he said it agreed with him. I thought so! I never saw a 
man eat so much in my life. Beef, mutton, pork; he swal- 
lowed them all like a shark; and between meals he was often 
discovered behind barrels, eating hard-boiled eggs. The re- 
sult was that, when we reached Melbourne, this infamous skel- 
eton weighed sixty-four pounds more than I did! I thought 
I was ruined, but I wasn't. I took him on to California, an- 
other very long sea voyage, and when I got him to San Fran- 
cisco, I exhibited him as a fat man. 

" 'This story hasn't anything to do with my entertainment, 
I know, but one of the principal features of my entertainment 
is that it contains so many things that don't have anything to 
do with it. My orchestra is small, but I am sure it is good, 
so far as it goes. I give my pianist ten pounds a night — and 
his washing. I like music, but I can't sing. As a singist I am 
not a success. I am saddest when I sing. So are those who 
hear me. They are sadder even than I am. 

" 'I found music very soothing when I lay ill with fever 
in Utah; and I was very ill. I was fearfully wasted. My 
face was hewn down to nothing, and my nose was so sharp I 



504 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

didn't dare to stick it into other people's business — for fear it 
would stay there — and I should never get it out again. And 
on those dismal days a Mormon lady — she was married — 
though not so much as her husband — he had fifteen other 
wives — she used to sing a ballard commencing, 'Sweet bird, 
do not fly away !' — and I told her I wouldn't. She played the 
accordion divinely — accordionly I praised her. 

" 'I met a man in Oregon who hadn't any teeth — not a 
tooth in his head — yet that man could play on the bass drum 
better than any one else I ever met. He kept a hotel. They 
have queer hotels in Oregon, I remember one night when 
they gave me a bag of oats for a pillow. I had nightmares, 
of course. In the morning, the landlord said, 'How do you 
feel, old boss, hay?' I told him I felt my oats. 

" 'At San Francisco, I went to the Chinese theatre. A 
Chinese play often lasts two months. Commencing at the 
hero's birth, it is cheerfully conducted forward till he is either 
killed or married. The night I was there, a Chinese comic 
vocalist sang a Chinese comic song. It took him six weeks 
to finish it; but, as my time was limited, I went away at the 
expiration of two hundred and fifteen verses. There were 
eleven thousand verses to this song — the chorus being, 'Tural, 
lural, dural, ri fol day' — which was repeated twice at the end 
of each verse, making, as you will at once see, the appalling 
number of twenty-two thousand 'tural, lural, dural, ri fol 
days' — and the man still lives.' " 

GEORGE WASHINGTON 

HIS MODESTY 

N anecdote is related of this gentleman, which displays in 



A 



a strong and amiable light, the exalted force of his feel- 
ings, and the truly noble cast of his manners. When Colonel 
Washington (the immortal saviour of his country) had closed 



George Washington 505 

his career in the French and Indian War, and had become a 
member of the House of Burgesses, the Speaker, Robinson, was 
directed, by a vote of the house, to return their thanks to that 
gentleman, on behalf of the Colony, for the distinguished inili- 
tary services which he had rendered to his country. As soon 
as Colonel Washington took his seat, Mr, Robinson, in obedi- 
ence to this order, and following the impulse of his own gen- 
erous and grateful heart, discharged the duty with great dig- 
nity; but with such warmth of coloring and strength of 
expression, as entirely confounded the young hero. 

He rose to express his acknowledgments for the honor ; but 
such was his trepidation and confusion, that he could not give 
distinct utterance to a single syllable. He blushed, stammer- 
ed, and trembled, for a second ; when the speaker relieved him 
by a stroke of address that would have done honor to Louis 
XIV, in his proudest and happiest moment, "Sit down, Mr. 
Washington," said he, with a conciliating smile; "your mod- 
esty is equal to your valor; and that surpasses the power of 
any language that I possess." 

BRADDOCK'S DEFEAT 

The military career of Washington had been for a time 
interrupted by a question of etiquette. An order was issued 
in favor of the officers holding the King's commission out- 
ranking the provincial appointments. Washington, who knew 
the worth of his countrymen, and the respect due himself, 
would not submit to this injustice, and the estate of Mount 
Vernon now requiring his attention, he withdrew from the 
army to its rural occupations. He was not, however, suffered 
to remain there long in inactivity. The arrival of General 
Braddock, with his forces, in the river, called him into action 
at the summons of that officer, who was attracted by his ex- 
perience and accomplishments. Washington, anxious to serve 
his country, readilv accepted an appointment as one of the Gen- 



5o6 Capitaj, Stories About Famous Americans 

eral's military family, the question of rank being thus dis- 
pensed with. He joined the Army on its onward march at 
Winchester, and proceeded with it, though he had been taken 
ill with a raging fever, to the Great Crossing of the Youg- 
hiogany. Here he was compelled to remain with the rear of 
the Army, by the positive injunctions of the General, from 
whom he exacted his "word of honor" that he "should be 
brought up before he reached the French fort." This he ac- 
complished, though he was too ill to make the journey on 
horseback, arriving at the mouth of the Youghiogany, in the 
immediate vicinity of the fatal battle-field, the evening before 
the engagement. 

In the events of that memorable 9th of July, 1755, he 
was destined to bear a conspicuous part. From the begin- 
ning, he had been a prudent counsellor of the General on the 
march, and it was by his advice that some of its urgent 
difficulties had been overcome. He advised pack-horses in- 
stead of baggage-wagons, and a rapid advance with an unen- 
cumbered portion of the force before the enemy at Fort Du 
Quesne could gain strength ; but Braddock, a brave, confident 
officer of the European school, resolutely addicted to system, 
was unwilling or unable fully to carry out the suggestions. 
Had Washington held the command, it is but little to say that 
he would not have been caught in an ambuscade. It was his 
last advice, on arriving at the scene on the eve of the battle, 
that the Virginia Rangers should be employed as a scouting 
party, rather than the regular troops in the advance. The 
proposition was rejected. 

The following day, though still feeble from his illness, 
Washington mounted his horse and took his accustomed station 
as aide to the General. It was a brilliant display, as the 
well-appointed Army passed under the eye of its martinet 
commander on its way from the encampment, crossing and 
recrossing the Monongahela towards Fort Du Quesne — and 



George; Washington coy 

the soldierly eye of Washington is said to have kindled at the 
sight. The march had continued from sunrise till about two 
o'clock in the afternoon, when, as the advanced column was 
ascending a rising ground covered with trees, a fire was opened 
upon it from two concealed ravines on either side. Then was 
felt the want of American experience in fighting with the 
Indian. Braddock in vain sent forward his men. They would 
not, or could not, fight against a hidden foe, while they them- 
selves were presented in open view to the marksmen. Wash- 
ington recommended the Virginia example of seeking protec- 
tion from the trees, but the General would not even then aban- 
don his European tactics. The regulars stood in squads shoot- 
ing, their own companions before them. The result was an 
overwhelming defeat, astounding when the relative forces and 
equipment of the two parties is considered. Braddock, who, 
amidst all his faults, did not lack courage, directed his men 
while five horses were killed under him. Washington was 
also in the thickest of the danger, losing two horses, while his 
clothes were pierced by four bullets. Many years afterwards, 
when he visited the region on a peaceful mission, an old Indian 
came to see him as a wonder. He had, he said, levelled his 
rifle so often at him, without effect, that he became persuaded 
he was under the special protection of the Great Spirit, and 
gave up the attempt. Braddock, at length, fell in the centre 
of the field, fatally wounded. Nothing now remained but 
flight. But four officers out of eighty-six were left alive 
and unwounded. Washington's first care was for the wounded 
General; his next employment, to ride to the reserve camp of 
Dunbar, forty miles, for aid and supplies. Returning with the 
requisite assistance, he met the wounded Braddock on the re- 
treat. Painfully borne along the road, he survived the en- 
gagement several days, and reached the great meadows to die 
and be buried there by the broken remnant of his Army. Wash- 
ington read the funeral service, the Chaplain being disabled. 



5o8 Capitai, Storie;s About Famous Americans 

AN IDEAL HUSBAND 

James Parton gives this interesting picture of Washington's 
domestic Hfe: 

The General and his wife Hved happily together, but it is 
evident that, like most heiresses, she was a little exacting, and 
it is highly probable that the great Washington was sometimes 
favored with a curtain lecture. The celebrated authoress, Miss 
Bremer, is our authority for this surmise. She relates that a 
gentleman once slept at Mount Vernon in the room next to 
that occupied by the master and mistress of the mansion ; and 
when all the inmates were in bed, and the house was still, he 
overhead, through the thin partition, the voice of Mrs. Wash- 
ington. He could not but listen, and it was a curtain-lecture 
which she was giving her lord. He had done something dur- 
ing the day which she thought ought to have been done dif- 
ferently, and she was giving him her opinion in somewhat 
animated and quite decided tones. The great man listened in 
silence till she had done, and then, without a remark upon the 
subject in hand, said : 

"Now, good sleep to you, my dear." 

What an example to husbands ! 

When Washington was appointed to command the Revolu- 
tionary Armies, it is plain from his letters home that one of his 
greatest objections to accepting the appointment was, the "un- 
easiness," as he termed it, that it would cause his wife to have 
him absent from home. 

General Washington was a very rich man ; his wife was 
very rich, and her three children were heirs to great wealth. 
He had a little principality to govern. Besides the farms 
about his own residence on the Potomac, with several hundred 
slaves upon them, he possessed wild lands in most of the best 
locations then known, as well as shares in several incorporated 
companies. He derived an important part of his influence 
from the greatness of his wealth and the antiquity of his family 



George; Washington 509 

— things which were then held in much more respect than they 
are now. Washington's estate was not worth more than three- 
quarters of a milHon dollars ; but it gave him far more personal 
consequence in the country than ten times such a fortune could 
to-day. The rich planter then, living as he did on a wide 
domain of his own, the owner of those who served him, ridino- 
about in his coach and six, and with no near neighbors to 
restrain, censure, or outshine him, was a kind of farmer-prince. 

It was fortunate for Washington that he came to this 
wealth when his character was mature. Being a younger son, 
he had no expectations of wealth in his youth, and he was 
brought up in a very hardy, sensible manner, on an enormous 
farm, not a fourth part of which was cultivated. His father 
dying when he was eleven years old, he came directly under 
the influence of his mother, who was one of the women of 
whom people say, "There is no nonsense about her." She was 
a plain, illiterate, energetic, strong-willed lady, perfectly capa- 
ble of conducting the affairs of a farm, and scorning the help 
of others. When she was advanced in years, her son-in-law 
offered to manage her business for her. 

"You may keep the accounts. Fielding," was her reply, 
"for your eyesight is better than mine; but I can manage my 
affairs myself." 

On another occasion General Washington asked her to come 
and live with him at Mount Vernon. 

"I thank you, George," said she ; "but I prefer being inde- 
pendent." 

And so to the last she lived in her own plain farm-house, 
and superintended the culture of her own acres, not disdaining 
to labor with her own hands. When La Fayette visited her he 
found her at work in her garden, with her old sun-bonnet on, 
and she came in to see him, saying : 

"I would not pay you so poor a compliment, Marquis, as to 
stay to change my dress." 



510 Capitai. Stories About Famous Americans 

THE FIRST INAUGURATION 

It was on the 30th of April, 1789, that the first ceremony 
of inaugurating a President took place. At nine o'clock in the 
morning religious services were performed in all the churches 
in the city. At twelve o'clock, the Military Companies of New 
York halted before the door of Washington's residence, and 
half an hour after the procession moved in the following 
order : First, the Troops ; next, the Committee of both houses 
of Congress in carriages ; next, the Presidentl-elect in a grand 
State-coach ; next, his Aide-de-Camp and his Secretary in one 
of the General's own carriages, and the procession was closed 
by the carriages of the foreign ministers and a train of citizens. 
When the head of the procession had reached the hall, it 
halted, the Troops were drawn up on each side of the pavement, 
and between them General Washington and his attendants 
walked to the building and ascended to the Senate-Chamber, 
where the Vice-President advanced to meet him, and conducted 
him to a chair of state. 

The whole assembly sat in silence for a minute or two, 
when the Vice-President rose and informed General Washing- 
ton that all things were now ready for him to take the oath 
which the Constitution required; and, so saying, he conducted 
the President-elect to a balcony, in full view of the people as- 
sembled in the street and covering the roofs of the houses. In 
the centre of this balcony there was a table covered with crim- 
son velvet, in the middle of which, upon a cushion of the same 
material lay a richly bound Bible. The eyes of a great multi- 
tude were fixed upon the balcony at the moment when Wash- 
ington came into view, accompanied by the Vice-President, the 
Chancellor of the State of New York, and other distinguished 
official persons. He was dressed in a manner which displayed 
the majesty of his form to excellent advantage. His full suit 
of dark-brown cloth was relieved by a steel-hilted sword, by 
white silk stockings and silver shoe-buckles; and his hair was 



Georgk Washington 511 

powdered and gathered into a bag behind, in the fashion of that 
day. The crowd greeted him with enthusiastic cheers. Com- 
ing forward to the front of the balcony, he bowed several 
times to the people, with his hand upon his heart, and then 
retreated to an arm-chair near the table, and sat down. 

When all was hushed into silence, Washington again rose, 
and came forward, and stood in view of all the people, with the 
Vice-President on his right, and Chancellor Livingston, who 
was to administer the oath, on the left. When the Chancellor 
was about to begin, the Secretary of the Senate held up the 
Bible on its crimson cushion; and while the oath was read, 
Washington laid his hand upon the open book. When the 
reading was finished, he said, with great solemnity of manner : 

"I swear ; so help me God !" 

After which, he bowed and kissed the book. The Chancel- 
lor, then, waving his hand toward the assembled people, cried 
out in a loud voice : 

"Long live George Washington, President of the United 
States !" 

The preconcerted signal was then given, and, at once, all the 
bells in the town rang a triumphant peal; the cannons were 
fired; and the people gave cheer upon cheer. The President 
now bowed once more to the multitude, and returned to the 
Senate-Chamber, where he resumed his seat in the chair of 
state. When silence was restored, he rose and began, in a low, 
deep, and somewhat tremulous voice, to read that noble inaug- 
ural address, so full of dignity, wisdom, and pathos. 

MAJOR ANDRE AND HIS CAPTURE 
William Sandison re-told some years ago in Success this 
always picturesque and tragic story of Major Andre : 

No two single personal events of the Revolutionary War 
have more excited the imagination than the capture and exe- 
cution of the American spy, Nathan Hale, and the British 



512 Capitai, Storii:s About Famous Americans 

spy, Major Andre. The disposition of Hale, on the part of 
the British, was, in a measure, responsible for the manner in 
which Andre was executed. Like the blowing up of the 
Maine, it called for vengeance. Vengeance was not, however, 
Jn the mind of Washington, w^hose sole aim in hanging Andre 
was to bring the War home to the British imagination, and he 
did. There have been a number of versions of the capture of 
Major Andre. Probably, that which is nearest correct is 
given in a letter from General King, whose men, Paulding, 
Van Wart and Williams, were the captors. According to this 
letter, which has only recently been published, Andre, in his 
captivity, made a confidant of General King. Andre had 
reached a point where he thought he was safe. He was as- 
sailed by three men, who ordered him to stand. He said : "I 
hope, gentlemen, you belong to the lower party." '*We do," 
said one. "So do I. I am a British officer on business of im- 
portance, and must not be detained." Thereupon, one of them 
took his watch from him, and ordered him to dismount. The 
Major then said to them : "I am happy to find I am mistaken ; 
you belong to the upper party, and so do I ; and, to convince 
you of it, here is General Arnold's pass" — ^handing it to them. 
"Arnold's pass?" said a captor; "you said you are a British 
officer — where is your money?" 

"Gentlemen, I have none about me," he replied. 

"You a British officer ; pooh ! a good watch and no money ! 
Let us search him." 

They then examined his saddle, but found none. Said 
one : "He has money in his boots. Let's take them ofif and see." 
Seeing they had such a thirst for money, he proposed that they 
carry him to King's Bridge, and they would get all they 
wanted. But they knew better. Then he proposed that two 
of them guard him, and one of them carry a letter to any party 
they might name. But they feared they would all be arrested, 
and so decided to deliver him to General King." 



George; Washington 513 



r 



TRAGIC STORY OF ANDRE'S EXECUTION 
There stand, to-day, within rifle shot of each other, in the 
quaint old village of Tappan, New York, two buildings in 
which was enacted the most stirring dramas of the Revolution. 
In one, then, as now, a low-set stone house, with great 
gables and long, low-hanging eaves, George Washington paced 
up and down for five mortal hours on the second day of Octo- 
ber, 1780, awaiting the fatal moment when Major Andre 
should be executed. The great Commander was alone that 
day, with doors locked and shutters barred, fighting out the 
most momentous crisis of his life. Fiercely the conflict raged 
in his breast — the war between duty and inclination. 

In the other, still intact, and in almost the same condition 
as it was one hundred and twenty years ago, was the English 
officer condemned to death. The front parlor of this "76 
House" was filled with officers and men. Just back of this, 
in the prison room, Andre was confined. Small and dark, and 
not more than six or seven feet wide, it must have been a 
dreary cell for its inmate. At the rear of the hall, and in a 
large room, the entire width of the house, is the fire-place in 
front of which Major Andre sat and penned his last memorable 
letter to Washington asking to be shot, that he might die like 
a soldier instead of being hanged like a malefactor. Had 
Washington consulted his personal feelings in this matter, it 
is more than likely that the execution would never have taken 
place. True, Andre was a spy, caught in the act, but his high 
rank and the peculiar conditions which surrounded the case led 
all to be very considerate and to regret his fate. Coming of 
a good family, well educated, prominent in social circles, and 
holding an important military position, his prospects had been 
bright and promising. Washington saw many good qualities 
in the young officer, and none could appreciate them more 
than he. Pity was strong within him, but the hard sense of 
duty strove to put all other feelings aside. The popular feel- 



514 Capital, Storie;s About Famous Americans 

ing of both Armies was with the prisoner, and, had Washing- 
ton cared to favor indulgence, he would have had no censure 
to fear from any quarter. There were probably few men in 
the Army with a more tender and benevolent nature than his ; 
but that was a time when he had to raise himself above the 
contagious, impulsive sympathy of those about him, and to 
discard all personal considerations. 

Operations had been secretly under way for a long time to 
undermine the loyalty of one of his most trusted officers, Gen- 
eral Benedict Arnold. The enormity of the evil which would 
have resulted, had the treason been successful, was undeniable. 
Many anonymous hints had been dropped that treachery might 
be expected in other quarters. All these conditions convinced 
the Continental Commander that there was but one course to 
pursue, and that was to make a strong and lasting example in 
Andre's case. There was no knowing how far the enemy had 
■carried the scheme of corruption. Taking counsel with his 
officers, he found that their opinions agreed with his own, that 
a strong, rigorous warning should be given the enemy. 

Andre's frank, open, gentlemanly manner, all through the 
trial, had made many friends for him ; and, when the day of 
his execution arrived, there was hardly a dry eye in the great 
•crowd that gathered to witness the scene. Americans and 
British alike were moved to tears and deeply regretted the fate 
of the promising young officer. It is not true, as some writers 
have asserted, that Washington watched the execution from 
his window. He was deeply grieved and gladly would have 
saved Andre, had it been possible. Instead of watching the 
■execution, he shut himself up in his room from an early hour 
until noon, when all was over. 

This was one of the most trying ordeals in Washington's 
whole career. Though many have regarded it as hard-heart- 
€dness, it was in reality an extremely difficult task to suppress 
his own strong feelings and rise above those surrounding him, 



Booke;r T. Washington 51 r 

that he might do a duty which was repugnant to him, but 
VN^hich was imperative for his country's good. Duty won. 

The people of the seckided httle town of Tappan still re- 
gard these old places with veneration. Many travelers visit 
the town, which is an easy drive back from the Hudson River. 
The registers in both houses show that, in a single year, over 
three thousand people have visited there. They come from all 
parts of the world to see the old headquarters and the prison, 
upon which the fingers of time have made so little change. 

Andre's grave faces the Sun and the breeze on "Treason 
Hill," a little way back of his old prison-house. Cut on the 
stone are these words, which were written by Washington's 
own pen, and which serve to show his appreciation of the man 
whom a harsh fate had compelled him to condemn to death: 
"He was more unfortunate than criminal. An accomplished 
man and gallant officer." 

BOOKER T. WASHINGTON 

PICTURE OF A SLAVE BOY'S CHILDHOOD 

THE stories which follow are taken from Booker T. Wash- 
ington's most remarkable book entitled Up From 
Slavery — An Autobiography. Here is his story of childhood: 

"I was born a slave on a plantation in Franklin County, 
Virginia. I am not quite sure of the exact place or exact date 
of my birth, but at any rate I suspect I must have been born 
somewhere and at some time. As nearly as I have been able to 
learn, I was born near a cross-roads post-office called Hail's 
Ford, and the year was 1858 or 1859. I do not know the 
month or the dav. The earliest impressions I can now recall 
are of the plantation and the slave quarters— the latter being 
the part of the plantation where the slaves had their cabins.^ 

"Mv life had its beginning in the midst of the most miser- 
able, desolate, and discouraging surroundings. This was so, 



5i6 Capita!, Storiijs About Famous Americans 

however, not because my owners were especially cruel, for they 
were not, as compared with many others. I was born in a 
typical log cabin, about fourteen by sixteen feet square. In 
this cabin I lived with my mother and a brother and sister till 
after the Civil War, when we were all declared free. 

"Of my ancestry I know almost nothing. In the slave 
quarters, and even later, I heard whispered conversations 
among the colored people of the tortures which the slaves, in- 
cluding, no doubt, my ancestors on my mother's side, suffered 
in the middle passage of the slave ship while being conveyed 
from Africa to America. I have been unsuccessful in securing 
any information that would throw any accurate light upon the 
history of my family beyond my mother. She, I remember, 
had a half-brother and a half-sister. In the days of slavery 
not very much attention was given to family history and family 
records — that is, black family records. My mother, I suppose, 
attracted the attention of a purchaser who was afterward my 
owner and hers. Her addition to the slave family attracted 
about as much attention as the purchase of a new horse or 
cow. Of my father I knew even less than of my mother. I do 
not even know his name. I have heard reports to the effect 
that he was a white man who lived on one of the near-by plan- 
tations. Whoever he was, I never heard of his taking the least 
interest in me or providing in an}^ way for my rearing. But 
I do not find especial fault with him. He was simply another 
unfortunate victim of the institution which the Nation un- 
happily had engrafted upon it at that time. 

"The cabin was not only our living-place, but was also used 
as the kitchen for the plantation. My mother was the planta- 
tion cook. The cabin was without glass windows; it had only 
openings in the side which let in the light, and also the cold, 
chilly air of winter. There was a door to the cabin — that is, 
something that was called a door — but the uncertain hinges by 
which it was hung, and the large cracks in it, to say nothing 



Booker T. Washington 517 

of the fact that it was too small, made the room a very un- 
comfortable one. In addition to these openings there was, in 
the lower right-hand corner of the room, the 'cat-hole,'— a 
contrivance with which almost every mansion or cabin in Vir- 
ginia possessed during the ante-bellum period. The 'cat-hole' 
was a square opening, about seven by eight inches, provided 
for the purpose of letting the cat pass in and out of the house 
at will during the night. In the case of our particular cabin 
I could never understand the necessity for this convenience, 
since there were at least a half-dozen other places in the cabin 
that would have accommodated the cats." 

NAMING HIMSELF 

Mr. Washington tells this story of how it became neces- 
sary to give himself a name on first entering school : 

"My second difficulty was with regard to my name, or 
rather a name. From the time when I could remember any- 
thing, I had been called simply 'Booker.' Before going to 
school it had never occurred to me that it was needful or ap- 
propriate to have an additional name. When I heard the 
school-roll called, I noticed that all of the children had at least 
two names, and some of them indulged in what seemed to me 
the extravagance of having three. I was in deep perplexity, 
because I knew that the teacher would demand of me at least 
two names, and I had only one. By the time the occasion came 
for the enrolling of my name, an idea occurred to me which I 
thought would make me equal to the situation ; and so, when 
the teacher asked me what my full name was, I calmly told him 
'Booker Washington,' as if I had been called by that name 
all my life ; and by that name I have since been known. Later 
in my life I found that my mother had given me the name of 
'Booker Taliaferro' soon after I was born, but in some way 
that part of my name seemed to disappear and for a long while 
was forgotten, but as soon as I found out about it I revived it. 



5i8 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

and made my full name 'Booker Taliaferro Washington.' I 
think there are not many men in our country who have had the 
privilege of naming themselves in the way that I have." 

ON HIS WAY TO COLLEGE 

The story of Booker Washington's attempt to gain an 
education is one of the most heroic in all modern life : 

"By walking, begging rides both in wagons and in the cars, 
in some way, after a number of days, I reached the city of 
Richmond, Virginia, about eighty-two miles from Hampton. 
When I reached there, tired, hungry, and dirty, it was late in 
the night. I had never been in a large city, and this rather 
added to my misery. When I reached Richmond, I was com- 
pletely out of money. I had not a single acquaintance in the 
place, and, being unused to city ways, I did not know where 
to go. I applied at several places for lodging, but they all 
wanted money, and that was what I did not have. Knowing 
nothing else better to do, I walked the streets. In doing this 
I passed by many foodstands where fried chicken and half- 
moon apple pies were piled high and made to present a most 
tempting appearance. At that time it seemed to me that I 
would have promised all that I expected to possess in the 
future to have gotten hold of one of those chicken legs or 
one of those pies. But I could not get either of these, nor 
anything else to eat. 

"I must have walked the streets till after midnight. At 
last I became so exhausted that I could walk no longer. I was 
tired, I was hungry, I was everything but discouraged. Just 
about the time when I reached extreme physical exhaustion, 
I came upon a portion of a street where the board sidewalk 
was considerably elevated. I waited for a few minutes, till I 
was sure that no passers-by could see me, and then crept under 
the sidewalk and lay for the night upon the ground, with my 
satchel of clothing for a pillow. Nearly all night I heard the 



Booker T. Washington 519 

tramp of feet over my head. The next morning I found 
myself somewhat refreshed, but I was extremely hungry, 
because it had been a long time since I had had sufficient food. 
As soon as it became light enough for me to see my sur- 
roundings I noticed that I was near a large ship, and that this 
ship seemed to be unloading a cargo of pig iron. I went at 
once to the vessel and asked the Captain to permit me to help 
unload the vessel in order to get money for food. The Captain, 
a white man, who seemed to be kind-hearted, consented, I 
worked long enough to earn money for my breakfast, and it 
seems to me, as I remember it now, to have been about the 
best breakfast that I have ever eaten. 

"My work pleased the Captain so well that he told me if I 
desired, I could continue working for a small amount per day. 
This I was very glad to do. I continued working on this 
vessel for a number of days. After buying food with the small 
wages I received there was not much left to add to the amount 
I must get to pay my way to Hampton. In order to economize 
in every way possible, so as to be sure to reach Hampton in a 
reasonable time, I continued to sleep under the same sidewalk 
that gave me shelter the first night I was in Richmond. Many 
years after that the colored citizens of Richmond very kindly 
tendered me a reception, at which there must have been two 
thousand people present. This reception was held not far 
from the spot where I slept the first night I spent in that city, 
and I must confess that my mind was more upon the sidewalk 
that first gave me shelter than upon the reception, agreeable 
and cordial as it was." 

A QUEER COLLEGE EXAMINATION 

It is doubtful if any man ever passed a more unique exam- 
ination for entrance into a collegiate institution than that 
described by Mr. Washington in the following story : 

"As soon as possible after reaching the grounds of the 



520 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

Hampton Institute, I presented myself before the head teacher 
for assignment to a class. Having been so long without 
proper food, a bath, and change of clothing, I did not, of 
course, make a very favorable impression upon her, and I 
could see at once that there were doubts in her mind about the 
wisdom of admitting me as a student. I felt that I could hardly 
blame her if she got the idea that I was a worthless loafer or 
tramp. For some time she did not refuse to admit me, neither 
did she decide in my favor, and I continued to linger about 
her, and to impress her in all the ways I could with my worth- 
iness. In the meantime I saw her admitting other students, 
and that added greatly to my discomfort, for I felt, deep down 
in my heart, that I could do as well as they, if I could only 
get a chance to show what was in me. 

"After some hours had passed, the head teacher said to 
me: 'The adjoining recitation-room needs sweeping. Take 
the broom and sweep it.' 

"It occurred to me at once that here was my chance. Never 
did I receive an order with more delight. I knew that I could 
sweep, for Mrs. Ruffner had thoroughly taught me how to do 
that when I lived with her. 

"I swept the recitation-room three times. Then I got a 
dusting-cloth and I dusted it four times. All the wood-work 
around the walls, every bench, table, and desk, I went over 
four times with my dusting-cloth. Besides, every piece of 
furniture had been moved and every closet and corner in the 
room had been thoroughly cleaned. I had the feeling that in 
a large measure my future depended upon the impression I 
made upon the teacher in the cleaning of that room. When I 
was through, I reported to the head teacher. She was a 'Yan- 
kee' woman who knew just where to look for dirt. She went 
into the room and inspected the floor and closets ; then she 
took her handkerchief and rubbed it on the woodwork about 
the walls, and over the table and benches. When she was 



Booker T. Washington 521 

unable to find one bit of dirt on the floor, or a particle of dust 
on any of the furniture, she quietly remarked, 'I guess you will 
do to enter this institution.' 

"I was one of the happiest souls on earth. The sweeping 
of that room was my college examination, and never did any 
youth pass an examination for entrance into Harvard or Yale 
that gave him more genuine satisfaction. I have passed sev- 
eral examinations since then, but I have always felt that this 
was the best one I ever passed." 

A GREAT ORATORICAL VICTORY 

Mr. James Creelman was present in Atlanta, Georgia, at 
the time Booker T. Washington won his first great recognition 
as an orator of remarkable power at the Atlanta Exposition. 
He telegraphed the following story to the New York World : 

"While President Cleveland was waiting at Gray Gables 
to-day, to send the electric spark that started the machinery of 
the Atlanta Exposition, a Negro Moses stood before a great 
audience of white people and delivered an oration that marks 
a new epoch in the history of the South ; and a body of Negro 
Troops marched in a procession with the citizen soldiery of 
Georgia and Louisiana. The whole city is thrilling to-night 
with a realization of the extraordinary significance of these 
two unprecedented events. Nothing has happened since Henry 
Grady's immortal speech before the New England Society in 
New York that indicates so profoundly the spirit of the New 
South, except, perhaps the opening of the Exposition itself. 

"When Professor Booker T. Washington, Principal of an 
industrial school for colored people in Tuskegee, Ala., stood 
on the platform of the Auditorium, with the Sun shining over 
the heads of his auditors into his eyes, and with his whole face 
lit up with the fire of prophecy, Clark Howell, the successor 
of Henry Grady, said to me, 'That man's speech is the begin- 
ning of a morai revolution in America." 



522 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"It is the first time that a Negro has made a speech in the 
South on any important occasion before an audience composed 
of white men and women. It electrified the audience, and the 
response was as if it had come from the throat of a whirlwind. 

"Mrs. Thompson had hardly taken her seat when all eyes 
were turned on a tall tawny Negro sitting in the front row 
of the platform. It was Professor Booker T. Washington, 
President of the Tuskegee (Alabama) Normal and Industrial 
Institute, who must rank from this time forth as the foremost 
man of his race in America. Gilmore's Band played the Star 
Spangled Banner, and the audience cheered. The tune changed 
to Dixie and the audience roared with shrill 'hi-yis.' Again 
the music changed, this time to Yankee Doodle, and the clam- 
our lessened. 

"All this time the eyes of the thousands present looked 
straight at the Negro orator. A strange thing was to happen. 
A black man was to speak for his people, with none to interrupt 
him. As Professor Washington strode to the edge of the 
stage, the low, descending Sun shot fiery rays through the 
windows into his face. A great shout greeted him. He turned 
his head to avoid the blinding light, and moved about the plat- 
form for relief. Then he turned his wonderful countenance to 
the Sun without a blink of the eyelids, and began to talk. 

"There was a remarkable figure; tall, bony, straight as a 
Sioux Chief, high forehead, straight nose, heavy jaws, and 
strong, determined mouth, with big white teeth, piercing eyes, 
and a commanding manner. The sinews stood out on his 
bronzed neck, and his muscular right arm swung high in the 
air, with a lead-pencil grasped in the clinched brown fist. His 
big feet were planted squarely, with the heels together and 
the toes turned out. His voice rang out clear and true, and 
he paused impressively as he made each point. Within ten 
minutes the multitude was in an uproar of enthusiasm — hand- 
kerchiefs were waved, canes were flourished, hats were tossed 



Booker T. Washington 523 

in the air. The fairest women of Georgia stood up and 
cheered. It was as if the orator had bewitched them. 

"And when he held his dusky hand high above his head, 
with the fingers stretched wide apart, and said to the white 
people of the South on behalf of his race, 'In all things that 
are purely social, we can be as separate as the fingers, yet one 
as the hand in all things essential to mutual progress,' a great 
wave of sound dashed itself against the walls, and the whole 
audience was on its feet in a delirium of applause, and I 
thought at that moment of the night when Henry Grady stood 
among the curling wreaths of tobacco-smoke in Delmonico's 
Banquet-Hall, and said, 'I am a Cavalier among Roundheads.' 

"I have heard the great orators of many countries, but not 
even Gladstone himself could have pleaded a cause with more 
consummate power than did this angular Negro, standing in a 
nimbus of sunshine, surrounded by the men who once fought 
to keep his race in bondage. The roar might swell ever so 
high, but the expression of his earnest face never changed. 

"A ragged, ebony giant, squatted on the floor in one of the 
aisles, watched the orator with burning eyes and tremulous 
face until the supreme burst of applause came, and then the 
tears ran down his face. Most of the Negroes in the audience 
were crying, perhaps without knowing just why. 

"At the close of the speech Governor Bullock rushed across 
the stage and seized the orator's hand. Another shout greeted 
this demonstration, and for a few minutes the two men stood 
facing each other, hand in hand. 

AN INSPIRING OCCASION 
One of the most inspiring occasions at which Booker T. 
Washington has won marvelous oratorical victories, was at 
the dedication of the Robert Gold Shaw monument in Boston. 
The exercises connected with the dedication were held in 
Music Hall, in Boston, and the great hall was packed from top 



524 Capital, Stories About Famous Americans 

to bottom with one of the most distinguished audiences that 
ever assembled in the city. Among those present there were 
more persons representing the famous old anti-slavery element 
than it is likely will ever be brought together in the country 
again. The late Hon. Roger Wolcott, then Governor of Mass- 
achusetts, was the presiding officer, and on the platform with 
him were many other officials and hundreds of distinguished 
men. A report of the meeting which appeared in the Boston 
Transcript will describe it better than any words of mine 
could do: 

"The core and kernel of yesterday's great noon meeting in 
honor of the Brotherhood of Man, in Music Hall, was the 
superb address of the Negro President of Tuskegee. 'Booker 
T. Washington received his Harvard A, M. last June, the first 
of his race,' said Governor Wolcott, 'to receive an honorary 
degree from the oldest University in the land, and this for the 
wise leadership of his people.' When Mr. Washington rose in 
the flag-filled, enthusiasm-warmed, patriotic, and glowing at- 
mosphere of Music Hall, people felt keenly that here was the 
civic justification of the old abolition spirit of Massachusetts; 
in his person the proof of her ancient and indomitable faith; 
in his strong thought and rich oratory, the crown and glory of 
the old war days of suffering and strife. The scene was full 
of historic beauty and deep significance. 'Cold' Boston was 
alive with the fire that is always hot in her heart for righteous- 
ness and truth. Rows and rows of people who are seldom seen 
at any public function, whole families of those who are certain 
to be out of town on a holiday, crowded the place to over- 
flowing. The city was at her birthright fete in the person of 
hundreds of her best citizens, men and women whose names 
and lives stand for virtues that make for honorable civic pride. 

"Battle-music had filled the air. Ovation after ovation, 
applause warm and prolonged, had greeted the officers and 
friends of Colonel Shaw, the sculptor, St. Gaudens, the Memo- 



Booker T. Washington 525 

rial Committee, the Governor and his staff, and the Negro 
soldiers of the Fifty- fourth Massachusetts as they came upon 
the platform or entered the hall. Colonel Henry Lee, of Gov- 
ernor Andrew's old staff, had made a noble, simple presenta- 
tion speech for the Committee, paying tribute to Mr. John 
M. Forbes, in v^hose stead he served. Governor Wolcott had 
made his short, memorable speech, saying, 'Fort Wagner 
marked an epoch in the history of a race, and called it into 
manhood.' Mayor Quincy had received the monument for the 
city of Boston. The story of Colonel Shaw and his black 
Regiment had been told in gallant words, and then, after sing- 
ing of 

"Mine eyes have seen the glory 
Of the coming of the Lord, 
Booker Washington arose. It was, of course, just the mo- 
ment for him. The multitude, shaken out of its usual sym- 
phony-concert calm, quivered with an excitement that was not 
suppressed. A dozen times it had sprung to its feet to cheer 
and wave and hurrah, as one person. When this man of cul- 
ture and voice and power, as well as a dark skin, began and 
uttered the names of Stearns and of Andrew, feeling began to 
mount. You could see tears glisten in the eyes of soldiers 
and civilians. When the orator turned to the colored soldiers 
on the platform, to the color-bearer of Fort Wagner, who 
smilingly bore still the flag he had never lowered even when 
v/ounded, and said, 'To you, to the scarred and scattered rem- 
nants of the Fifty-fourth, who, with empty sleeve and wanting 
leg, have honored this occasion with your presence, to you, 
your commander is not dead. Though Boston erected no 
monument and history recorded no story, in you, and in the 
loyal race which you represent, Robert Gold Shaw would have 
a monument which time could not wear away.' Then came 
the climax of the emotion of the day and the hour. It was 
Roger Wolcott, as well as the Governor of Massachusetts, the 



A^ 



526 Capitai. Stories About Famous Ame;ricans 

individual representative of the people's sympathy, as well as 
the Chief Magistrate who had sprung first to his feet and cried, 
'Three cheers to Booker T, Washington !' " 

DANIEL WEBSTER 

A NARROW ESCAPE 

S Daniel Webster was about to be admitted to the Bar in 
Boston, Mass., his father being one of the Judges of the 
County Court in New Hampshire, procured for him the ap- 
pointment of Clerk of the Court, with emoluments equal to 
about fifteen hundred dollars a year. His father thought the 
appointment would gratify his son personally, and more espe- 
cially, as it would afford him money; which at that time was 
v/anted. He lost no time in communicating the news of this 
good fortune to his son at Boston, and in requesting him to 
hasten home, to enter on the duties and the emoluments of the 
office. He thought on the happening of this event, that no 
young man in all New England was more fortunate than his 
son. Daniel Webster told what had occurred, to his friend 
Mr. Gore, who, forseeing the destiny of his student, unhesi- 
tatingly advised him not to accept the appointment. He ad- 
mitted that it was a high compliment to so young a man, but he 
advised him to pursue his profession, and he gave such cogent 
reasons, that Mr. Webster concluded to decline it. 

The difficulty of satisfying his father that the course he had 
resolved to pursue, was the best, now arose in his mind. To 
aid Mr. Webster and his brother Ezekiel in obtaining an edu- 
cation, their father had resorted to borrowing money, and there 
was a mortgage for it to be paid. A debt was a sore incum- 
brance, more so in those days than at the present time. Ezekiel 
Webster was doing his best, and was then in Boston teaching 
a select school to earn money towards discharging that mort- 
gage. Edward Everett, since so highly distinguished, was. 



Daniel Webster 527 

by-the-by, one of his pupils. The desire to relieve his excel- 
lent father from all pecuniary responsibility on his account, 
now that he had the power to do it, was of course, very great[ 
but the sacrifice of his future prospects was in the scale, weigh- 
ing against the Clerkship, and its emoluments. In this dilem- 
ma, his friend Mr. Rufus Green Emery, be it mentioned to 
the credit of his fame, on hearing what the difficulty was, put 
gold into Mr. Webster's pocket, and sent him home to see his 
father personally on the subject. I have heard Mr. Webster 
tell the story, and it is a pity that I should mar it. On arriving 
at home he found his father sitting in his easy chair, not know- 
ing one word of what had passed in Boston, or of his intentions 
as to the Clerkship. He received his son affectionately, and 
with a manner that seemed to say, "our anxieties arc now 
ended." His father lost no time in telling him how "readily 
and how handsomely his request had been complied with. I 
had not," said he to his son, "more than mentioned it, before 
it was done." "His eyes," said Mr. Webster, "were brimful 
of tears of gratitude, as he told it to me." 

"Judge," said he, "of my father's disappointment and mani- 
fest vexation, when I told him I must resign the office. He 
could not at first believe his own ears. He, of course, wanted 
to know the reason. I told him I could do better ! I laid down 
the gold to pay the mortgage, and all the debts on my own 
and my brother's account. I wrote a letter thanking the 
Judges for the honor they had done me, and most respectfully 
resigned the office to which they had appointed me. There- 
upon I hastened back to Boston. I then for the first time 
held up my hand and took the oath of office. 

WEBSTER'S FASCINATING POWER OVER THE PUBLIC 
A gentleman traveling through Portsmouth, gives an ac- 
count of the gatherings of the people and of the enthusiasm 
displayed concerning Webster: 



528 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

''He says his carriage was brought to the door, and he was 
about to get into it, when the hostler said, 'Sir, are you going 
to leave the town ? Mr. Webster is to speak to-night !' The gen- 
tleman finding all classes so much delighted to hear that Mr. 
Webster was going to speak, ordered his horses to the stable, 
and put off his journey until the morrow. At early candle- 
light he went to the Hall where the meeting was held. It was 
filled to overflowing, but some persons seeing that he was a 
stranger gave way, and he found a convenient place to stand; 
no one could sit. A tremendous noise soon announced that the 
orator himself had arrived; but as soon as the meeting was 
organized, another arose to made some remarks upon the 
object of the Caucus. He was heard with a polite apathy. 
Another and another came, and all spoke well ; but this would 
not do, and if Chatham had been among them, or St. Paul, 
they would not have met the expectations of the multitude. 
The admired orator at length arose, and was for a while mus- 
ing upon something, which was drowned by a constant cheer- 
ing; but when order was restored, he went on with great 
serenity and ease to make his remarks, without apparently 
making the slightest attempt to gain applause. 

DANIEL WEBSTER'S FIRST LOVE 

Daniel Webster removed in 1808 to Portsmouth, which 
was then the largest and wealthiest town in New Hampshire 
as well as its only seaport. A lady, who lived then in the town, 
has recorded, in the most agreeable manner, her recollections 
of the great orator of that period. She was the minister's 
daughter. It was the custom in those days for strangers to be 
shown into the minister's pew. One Sunday her sister re- 
turned from church, and said there had been a remarkable 
person in the pew with her, who had riveted her attention, and 
that she was sure he had a most marked character for good 
or for evil. At that time Webster was exceedingly slender. 



Danie;i< Webster 529 

and his face was very sallow ; but his noble and spacious fore- 
head, his bright eyes, deep set in his head, and the luxuriant 
locks of his hair, together with the intelligent and amiable 
expression of his countenance, rendered his appearance strik- 
ing in the extreme. In a few days the stranger was at home 
in the minister's family, of which he was the life and soul. 

"I well remember," says this lady, "one afternoon, that he 
came in when the elders of the family were absent. He sat 
down by the window, and, as now and then an inhabitant of 
the town passed through the street, his fancy was caught by 
their appearance and his imagination excited, and he impro- 
vised the most humorous imaginary histories about them, 
which would have furnished a rich treasure for Dickens, could 
he have been the delighted listener instead of the young girl 
for whose amusement this wealth of invention was expended." 

Another of his Portsmouth friends used to say that there 
never was such an actor lost to the stage as he would have 
made, had he chosen to turn his talents in that direction. 

The young lawyer prospered well in this New Hampshire 
town, and he was soon in the receipt of an income which for 
that day was considerable. In June, 1809, about a year after 
his arrival, he suddenly left Portsmouth, without having said 
a word to his friends of his destination. They conjectured, 
however, that he had gone to Salisbury to visit his family. 
He returned in a week or two, but did not return alone. In 
truth, he had gone home to be married, and he brought back 
his wife, Grace Fletcher, with him. She was a lady most gen- 
tle in her manners, and of a winning, unobtrusive character, 
who immediately made all her husband's friends her own. The 
ladv quoted above gives so pleasant a description of their home 
and character, that I will quote a few sentences from it : 

"Mrs. Webster's mind was naturally of a high order, and 
whatever was the degree of culture she received, it fitted her to 
be the chosen companion and the trusted friend of her gifted 



530 Capital Storie;s About Famous Americans 

husband. She was never elated, never thrown off the balance 
of her habitual composure by the singular early success of her 
husband, and the applause constantly following him. It was 
her striking peculiarity that she was always equal to all occa- 
sions ; that she appeared with the same quiet dignity and com- 
posed self-possession in the drawing-room in Washington, as 
in her own quiet parlor. It was only when an unexpected 
burst of applause followed some noble effort of her husband 
that the quickened pulse sent the blood to her heart, and the 
tears started to her eyes. Uniting with great sweetness of 
disposition, unaffected, frank, and winning manners, no one 
could approach her without wishing to know her, and no one 
could know her well without loving her. When Mr. Webster 
brought this interesting companion to Portsmouth, the circle 
that gathered around them became more intimate, and was 
held by more powerful attractions. There never was a more 
charming room than the simple parlor, where, relieved from 
the cares of business, he gave himself up to relaxation." 

In due time a daughter was born to them, the little Grace 
Webster who was so wonderfully precocious and agreeable. 
Unhappily, she inherited her mother's delicate constitution, and 
she died in childhood. Three times in his life, it is said, Dan- 
iel Webster wept convulsively. One of these occasions was 
when he laid upon the bed of this darling girl, who had died 
in his arms, and turned away from the sight of her lifeless 
body. All the four children of Mrs. Webster, except her son, 
Fletcher, appear to have inherited their mother's weakness. 

Charles, a lovely child, both in mind and in person, died in 
infancy. Her daughter Julia, who lived to marry the son of a 
distinguished family in Boston, died in her thirtieth year. Ed- 
ward, her third son, served as Major in the Mexican War, and 
died in Mexico, aged twenty-eight. Fletcher, the most robust 
of her children, commanded a Regiment in the Army of the 
Potomac, and fell in one of its disastrous conflicts. 



Daniel Webster 531 

Beyond the general impressions of her friends, we know Ht- 
tle of the Hfe of this estimable woman. She lived retired from 
the public gaze, and the incidents of her life were of that 
domestic and ordinary nature which are seldom recorded. In 
this dearth of information, the reader will certainly be inter- 
ested in reading one of her letters to her husband, written soon 
after the death of their little son Charles. It shows her aflfec- 
ionate nature, and is expressed with all the tender eloquence 
of a bereaved but resigned mother. The following is the letter : 

"I have a great desire to write to you, my beloved hus- 
band, but I doubt if I can write legibly. I have just received 
your letter in answer to William, which told you that dear 
little Charlie was no more. I have dreaded the hour which 
should destroy your hopes, but trust you will not let this event 
afflict you too much, and that we both shall be able to resign 
him without a murmur, happy in the reflection that he has 
returned to his heavenly Father, pure as I received him. It 
was an inexpressible consolation to me, when I contemplated 
him in his sickness, that he had not one regret for the past, nor 
one dread for the future ; he was patient as a lamb during all 
his sufferings, and they were at last so great, I was happy 
when they were ended. 

"I shall always reflect on his brief life with mournful 
pleasure, and, I hope, remember with gratitude all the joy he 
gave me ; and it has been great. And oh, how fondly did I 
flatter myself it would be lasting. 

" 'It was but yesterday, my child, thy little heart beat high ; 
And I had scorned the warning voice that told me thou 
must die.' 

"Dear little Charles! He sleeps alone under St. Paul's. 
Oh, do not, my dear husband, talk of your own final abode ; 
that is a subject I never can dwell on for a moment. With 
you here, my dear, I can never be desolate ! Oh, may Heaven 
in its mercy long preserve you ! And that we may ever wisely 



532 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

improve every event, and yet rejoice together in this Hfe, prays 
your affectionate — G. W." 

JOSEPH WHEELER 

HOW THE TRENCHES WERE DUG 

TTTHEN the American Hne had fought its way to the top of 
^ ^ the hills at El Paso and San Juan and Caney, in the 
Santiago campaign during the Spanish-American War, Gen- 
eral Wheeler issued an order that every command should dig 
trenches in preparation for the conflict that he knew would 
break out again in the morning. But the soldiers had thrown 
away most of their trenching tools during the fierce rifle 
charges, and as darkness fell upon the scene of battle they 
threw themselves upon the ground and went to sleep from 
sheer exhaustion. Adjutant Hood of the Rough Riders, no- 
ticing this condition of affairs, rode over to General Wheeler's 
tent, and informed the good old veteran that the men were 
played out. Wheeler at the time was lying upon his cot more 
dead than alive, but there was a smile upon his lips, and his 
never-failing good humor twinkling in his eyes, when Adju- 
tant Hood said : 

"General, I am afraid our men can't dig the trenches." 

"What men?" asked the General. 

"The cavalry division," said the Adjutant. 

General Wheeler sat up in bed and began pulling on his 
boots. 

"Send me the man," he directed. 

"What man?" asked the Adjutant. 

"The man who can't dig trenches." 

"But it is not one man; it is many men. They are just 
played out." 

"But you can surely find one man who says he can't dig 
the trench. I only want one. Get him and bring him to me." 



Joseph Wheeler 533 

"But there are—" 

"I don't care how many there are, go get me one." 

The Adjutant had never faced such a man as Wheeler be- 
fore, and he did not know just what to make of the conversa- 
tion. The httle old General was as smooth and suave and 
courteous as could be, and Hood had nothing to do but ride 
back to the line. In some way he managed to round up a 
colored trooper belonging to the Ninth Cavalry, and brought 
him back to the division headquarters. He stood looking 
sheepishly at the ground, when Wheeler addressed him. 

"Are you the man who says he can't dig these trenches?" 
asked the General. 

The negro's feet shuffled uneasily on the ground. 

"I'se one of 'em, boss, but there's a — " 

The General stopped him, and walked out of his tent. 

"You can go to sleep now, my man, and I'll go up and dig 
your trench for you. When the sun comes up to-morrow 
morning the Spaniards are going to open on us, and every 
man who isn't protected is not only in danger of being killed, 
but will be unable to help us maintain our own position. The 
trenches have to be dug, and if you are unable to dig yours I'll 
just go out and do it for you. Where's your pick?" 

With the most business-like air in the world, Wheeler slid 
into his coat, and turned toward the big cavalryman. The lat- 
ter's eyes opened as he saw the proceedings, and they began 
to bulge out when the General motioned to him to lead the 
way to his camp. For half a minute his voice stuck in his 
throat, and then he said: 

"Boss, you ain't fit to dig no trenches. If they done got 
to be dug, I'll just naturally do it myself. I'm dog tired, but 
that ain't work for you." 

Wheeler stopped and looked at the man with a flicker of 

amusement in his eyes. ^ 

"I know it isn't work for me to do," he said, but I am 



534 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

going to need soldiers in the morning, and I am going to save 
your life, if possible. Do you think now that you can dig the 
trench ?" 

The negro started up the hill without a word. Then the 
General turned to Adjutant Hood, with a voice as pleasant as 
sunshine in May. 

"He seems to have changed his mind," he said. "Now 
you find me another man who can't dig trenches." 

The Adjutant bowed and rode of^. He never came back. 
In the morning the trenches were dug. 

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 

THE BEGINNINGS OF A POET 

IpRANCIS H. UNDERWOOD gives this interesting ac- 
-*~ count of the opening of Whittier's career as a poet. He 
says: 

It was about this time that William Lloyd Garrison was 
writing for the Newburyport Herald. He was but three years 
older than Whittier, and being an indentured apprentice, and 
not sure of his ground with his employer, the printer, he care- 
fully preserved his incognito as contributor. He was destined 
to exert a powerful influence upon the character and career of 
Whittier. In 1826 he established in Newburyport the Free 
Press, and we learn that the Whittier family, having sub- 
scribed for it, were greatly pleased with the humanitarian tone 
of its articles. 

Whittier remembers with singular pleasure the first sight 
of his poem printed in the "Poet's Corner" of the county 
newspaper. He was employed with one of the elders mend- 
ing fences when the news-carrier came along on horseback, 
and, taking the paper from his saddle-bags, threw it over to 
them. Whittier took it, and was overjoyed to see his lines. 
He stood rooted to the spot, and had to be called several times 



John Gresnleaf Whittier 535 

before he could return to sublunary affairs. This poem was 
probably The Deity. 

One day when he was hoeing in the cornfield in the sum- 
mer of 1826 word came that a carriage had driven up to the 
house, and that the visitor had inquired for one John Green- 
leaf Whittier. The youth hastened towards the house in great 
astonishment, and entered the back door because he was not 
presentable, having on neither coat, waistcoat, nor shoes — 
only a shirt, pantaloons, and straw hat. Who could have driven 
out to see him? After being shod and apparelled, his heart 
still in a flutter, he appeared before the stranger, who proved 
to be Garrison. The good sister Mary, it appeared, had re- 
vealed the secret of the authorship of the poems, and the gen- 
erous young editor had come from Newburyport on a friendly 
visit. We can imagine how the praise affected the poet; for 
the manner and tones of Garrison were always hearty, and 
often very tender, and conveyed an impression of absolute 
sincerity. His position as editor gave weight also to his 
words. To be sure, the Free Press was a local newspaper, 
and in one sense obscure ; but it was conducted with ability and 
conscience, and it reached the best readers in the county. 
For a young man who had never left his father's farm this 
vjdiS a recognition unexpected and overwhelming. It was a 
glimpse of fame. 

The father was called in, and the prospects of the son 
were discussed — the father remonstrating against " putting 
notions in his son's head." With warm words Garrison set 
forth the capabilities which the early verses indicated, and 
urged that the youth be sent to some public institution for 
such training as his talents demanded. His clear and intelli- 
gent counsel made a deep impression, although at first the 
obstacles seemed insuperable. The father had not the money 
for the purpose ; the farm did not produce more than enough 
for the necessary expenses of the family. But the son pon- 



53^ Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

dered upon the matter and determined to make every effort 
to secure a higher and more complete education. A way was 
opened for him that very year — not by charity or loan, but by 
the labor of his own hands. A young man, who worked for 
the elder Whittier on the farm in summer, used to make ladies' 
slippers and shoes during the winter. Seeing the desire of 
young Whittier to earn money for his schooling,' he offered to 
instruct him in the "mystery." The youth eagerly accepted 
the offer, and during the following season he earned enough 
to pay for a suit of clothes and for his board and tuition for 
six months. 

Whittier, after making an "appropriation bill" for the ap- 
proaching term at the academy, found himself "square" but 
without a surplus. At the end of three months he still had a 
single Mexican quarter of a dollar, which he had at the outset, 
not having spent a penny except as previously arranged for 
board, tuition, and books. 

WHITTIER'S COURAGE 

The writer of the above also tells this story : 

I remember in some conversation the topic of personal 
courage came up, and Mr. Whittier disclaimed for himself 
the possession of that quality. 

"But," I said "you always seemed to have the courage of 
your opinions under any trying circumstances." 

"Oh, well," he returned, "a man, if he is a man, must face 
some things. I recollect a time when I came out of a meeting, 
in the old anti-slavery days, that some rough fellows threatened 
us, and I turned and faced them, and so holding their eyes 
went out. No other way would have done, you know. The 
thing for a man to do was to face 'em, not to turn his back on 
'em, or run." 

It was of no use to tell Mr. Whittier that this was the 
highest kind of courage. He might have recognized the fact 



Emma Wii.i,ard 537 

as connected with another, but with himself, never. What 
would have called forth from him hearty appreciation and 
admiration if another had been the hero, only appeared in the 
most commonplace aspect as his own act. 

EMMA WILLARD 

THE HOSTESS OF LAFAYETTE 

"P\R. JOHN LORD, the biographer of Mrs. Willard, relates 
•^^ this interesting historical incident: 

"In 1825 General Lafayette revisited the country whose 
independence and nationality he had done so much to secure. 
His services to the cause of American independence, his friend- 
ship with Washington, his labors in behalf of constitutional 
liberty in France, his sufferings in an Austrian prison, and the 
mingled gallantry and sentiment, allied with rank, which early 
gave him prominence and fame, made him an idol of the Amer- 
ican people. I well remember with what enthusiasm he was 
greeted in my native town ; how proud I was, with others, a 
boy of fifteen, to shake his hand, and how popular he made 
himself by his recognition of old friends. I remember well the 
public receptions, the lunches, the fetes, the triumphal arches, 
festooned with ilowers, the floral processions, the speeches of 
prominent men, with which he was welcomed as a second 
Washington. I doubt if popular enthusiasm has since been 
called out in this country with such unbounded eclat. The 
great Webster may have excited equal popular admiration and 
curiosity in his speeches at Bunker Hill and Plymouth Rock, 
but the ovations he received were limited to a small extent of 
country — in and around Boston^the tribute to genius, to intel- 
lectual ascendency. The ovation to Lafayette was national, 
and given from patriotic gratitude, for respect to moral and 
chivalrous excellence — a deeper sentiment than intellectual ad- 
miration, which necessarily is confined to a few. 



538 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

"Mrs. Willard, with her admiration for great men, which 
verged on extravagance, with her ardent patriotism — ever a 
marked pecuHarity with her — and her intensely sympathetic 
nature, kindled by the general ardor, was peculiarly demon- 
strative. Her enthusiasm knew no bounds. And hence it 
was an epoch in her life — a proud day, when she welcomed 
the patriotic hero and statesman to Troy, and received a visit 
from him in her seminary. 

"It was an honor which made a profound impression on 
her soul, and called out the following lines, sung by a chorus 
of young ladies : 

" 'And art thou, then, dear hero, come ? 
And do our eyes behold the man. 
Who nerved his arm and bared his breast 

For us, ere yet our life began ? 
For us and for our native land. 

Thy youthful valor dared the war; 
And now, in winter of thine age, 

Thou'st come, and left thy loved ones far. 
Then deep and dear thy welcome be, 
Nor think thy daughters far from thee, 
Columbia's daughters, lo! we bend. 
And claim to call thee father, friend. 

" 'But wasn't our country's rights alone 
Impelled Fayette to Freedom's van ? 
No, 'twas the love of human kind — 

It was the sacred cause of man ; 
It was benevolence sublime. 

Like that which sways the eternal mind ! 
And, benefactor of the world, 

He shed his blood for all mankind. 

Then deep and dear thy welcome be, 



Frances E. Wielard 53^ 

Nor think thy daughters far from thee. 
Daughters of human kind we bend, 
And claim to call thee father, friend.' 

*'The General was much affected, and, at the close of the 
singing, with eyes suffused with tears, he said : 'I cannot ex- 
press what I feel on this occasion; but will you. Madam, 
present me with three copies of those lines, to be given by me, 
as from you to my three daughters ?' The local papers of the 
day add many details of this visit of Lafayette to Troy, where 
he received an unusually enthusiastic welcome. But there was 
nothing more beautiful than the arbor of evergreens, two hun- 
dred feet long, which the Seminary erected in a night, and 
the parade of girls dressed in white with appropriate banners." 

FRANCES E. WILLARD 

TEACHING COLLEGE BOYS 

TTTHEN Miss Willard was Professor of Aesthetics in the 
^ ^ Northwestern University, she heard a number of classes 
of young men. It was entirely a new thing for the boys to re- 
cite to a lady, and they tested her in various ways. Miss Wil- 
lard says : "On entering one day, I saw written on the black- 
board, 'Miss Willard runs the Freshmen like a pack of girls.' 
Without admitting by word or look that I had seen the flatter- 
ing sentence, I went to the blackboard behind my desk, and 
while with one hand I erased it, with the other I was looking 
into my note-book for illustrations of different rhetorical styles, 
and sending the young men to the blackboards around the 
room each to write out a specimen sentence. 

Another time they entombed a howling cat in the large 
drawer of my desk, and its orchestral accompaniment did not 
intermit one moment during the hour of my recitation, but if 
ever anv one had the appearance of being stone-deaf I think 



540 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

I may claim to have been the person and that was the occasion. 

Their last attempt was on this wise: The recitation room 
door began to creak vigorously, the weather being damp. A 
young man would enter the class a minute late, open the door 
the whole arc of its liberty, and close it carefully while the 
squeaky creak went on, disturbing us not a little. The moment 
he had taken his seat, another young man just a minute later 
would open the door, enter, and close it in the same percussive 
manner, and so on until a dozen, perhaps, came in — there were 
no more mischievous ones in my large class of seventy, I made 
no comment, went on with the class as best I could, but that 
night a trusty student who was working for his board at Rest 
Cottage, armed with a lantern, a piece of soap and the key 
to that recitation room, so limbered up those hinges that there 
was a surprised look on the faces of the boys when next day 
the door swung to and fro as if on velvet instead of iron. 

I was reminded of these occurrences in the anteroom of 
Moody's great Tabernacle in Boston, where I spoke one Sunday 
afternoon in 1877 to five thousand people or more. Some excel- 
lent ladies who accompanied me said in anxiety when I was 
about to go before the audience, 'Aren't you frightened? 
Doesn't it make your heart beat faster to step out, one lone 
woman in sight of that great amphitheater?' And it came in- 
stantly to my mind to reply, 'You never taught the Freshman 
class in Northwestern University or you would not expect one 
who has done that to be frightened at anything.' " 

WINNING A CAR FULL OF MEN 

In her Glimpses of Fifty Years, Miss Willard relates this 
charming incident : I was coming from New Orleans alone 
after attending the Louisiana W. C. T. U. Convention in that 
city in 1881. Mrs. Judge Merrick, my generous hostess, had 
provided me with such a lunch as rarely falls to mortal lot. As 
usual, I had a section which I hardly left during the trip, and 



Frances E. Willard 541 

as has happened several times in my experience, I was the only 
lady in the car. The porter provided me with a table and I had 
open my well-worn traveling bag, "Old Faithful," and was 
writing letters and articles uninterruptedly. By some mis- 
chance, I do not now remember what, we were side-tracked 
twelve hours and no food could be had. In traveling, my con- 
stant preoccupation makes me peculiarly uncommunicative. I 
have gone from Chicago to Boston without speaking to any 
one except the porter, indeed almost without seeing any one. 
But as the day wore on and our car stood there motionless, my 
thoughts went out to those stalwart men about me, those hun- 
gry travelers. After much reflection and some quiet observation, 
I selected a man in whom by intuition I believed, and catching 
his eye, beckoned him to come to my side. I had spread out my 
tempting lunch in all its fascinating forms and colors and I 
said, "Will you do me the favor to divide this among my fel- 
low-travelers ?" Those words were a magic spell ! The glow 
of gratitude upon his face was worth doing without one's meals 
twenty-four hours to enjoy. The grace and courtesy with 
which he acknowledged my thoughtfulness, the gathered group 
of men who came to take away a fragment of the feast, the 
doffing of hats, and charm of manner were worthy of any 
drawing-room. Poor fellows! they had been trying to get 
themselves some coffee and had gone to the engine for hot 
water. I had sugar and cream, but my coffee was cold and 
such an ado as they made to see that it was heated, and such 
solicitude lest I should not keep refreshments for my own needs ! 
My chosen spokesman said, "I am from Illinois and my 
wife belongs to the W. C. T. U." Another echoed, "I am from 
Massachusetts ; have heard you speak in my own town," and a 
third chimed in, "I was in your audience two nights ago at New 
Orleans." Of course I think well of those men ; the little inci- 
dent did me good for many a day and I rejoice to hope that 
those men think well of me ! 



542 Capital Stories About Famous Americans 

A HINT AT A LOVE STORY 

In her Glimpses of Fifty Years, Miss Willard hints at several 
passages at arms, and one experience of real pathos. She says : 

"A gifted man (who has made two women happy since) 
once wrote me in this wise : 'Dear friend, methinks your heart 
deceives you, for when we meet, though you speak kindly, you 
hardly look at me, and I take this as a token.' I replied : 'Dear 
Brother: This is the explanation. I had a clear and direct 
gaze until much study weakened my eyes, and I protect them 
now by studying the carpet.' 

"Another, true and loyal, had heard through a near friend 
of mine that I was supposed to have a special admiration for 
him, whereupon he wrote a frank letter implying the truth of 
that hypothesis. My answer was, 'Dear Friend: You have 
had the misfortune to begin at the wrong end of life's most 
intricate equation ; you have assumed the value of the unknown 
quantity — a sin that hath not forgiveness in this life; no, nor 
in that which is to come.' He sent me back a royal letter, 
saying he 'would never have dared write what he did, but for 
the encouragement of my friend's words, and he would like to 
know why I, of all women, might not help a man out of such 
a fearful quandary ;' indeed, he went further, and declared that 
'there was no reason in nature, grace or anything but sin, why 
a woman must stifle her heart, and a man wear his upon his 
sleeve.' But I had spoken once, and there the drama ended. 

"In 1861-62, for three-quarters of a year I wore a ring and 
acknowledged an allegiance based on the supposition that an 
intellectual comradeship was sure to deepen into unity of heart. 
How grieved I was over the discovery of my mistake the jour- 
nals of the epoch could reveal. Of the real romance of my life, 
unguessed save by a trio of close friends, these pages may not 
tell. When I have passed from sight I would be glad to have 
it known, for I believe it might contribute to a better under- 
standing between good men and women: 



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